


finding a hobby

by INTPSlytherin_reylove97



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Banter, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben is a High School English Teacher, But Also Not Because One Of Them (BEN ITS BEN) Falls Hard And Fast Like The Fool He Is, Canonical Character Death, Dark Humor and Rey and Ben Being Occasionally Ridiculous Will Occur, Depression, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Group Therapy, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Medication, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of Suicide, Recovery, Rey Kenobi, Rey Learns How to Be Better, Rey Needs A Hug, Rey is a Ghostwriter, Reylo endgame, Slow Burn, Snacks Are Evil, Substance Abuse, Teacher Ben Solo, The Last Skywalker and The Last Kenobi Meet, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-04-06 23:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 109,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19072663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INTPSlytherin_reylove97/pseuds/INTPSlytherin_reylove97
Summary: “I think therapy is selfish,” Rey declared.Ben didn’t react visibly, his lips barely twitching. “Of course it is. It is people who come to talk about their problems and seeking ways to figure out how to function in their own brain.”She turned to him, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “If you think it is selfish, why are you in it?”He blinked at her like she was stupid. “For the obvious reason—I’m selfish,” he answered simply.-*-*-*-*-After the death of her grandfather and her roommate finding her passed out with one too many empty bottles of vodka, Rey goes to therapy.Unfortunately, she didn't realize group therapy was more than just shitty people talking about their shitty lives for validation. It required opening up, and maybe finding something she liked. Or maybe finding a hobby.or alternative title: The Last Skywalker and the Last Kenobi meet in group therapy.





	1. why else do you think i am here?

**Author's Note:**

> I have over 10k of this and I need to let it out before I keep it forever.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later.
> 
>  
> 
> Note the tags!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

The moment Rey handed him the box she regretted it.

She only knew him for a couple of months and it was in group therapy of all places.

Yet she heard it was his birthday, and decided to make him something that she barely knew how to fucking make herself. Dr. Andor said to make use of hobbies in the grieving process and while Rey was shit at crocheting, some part of her decided to make something for handsome- _and_ -brooding Ben Solo who probably only knew how to insult her through backhanded compliments.

If she was lucky, he wouldn’t even open the damn box.

Yet somehow the thought of him not opening the box hurt more than him seeing the atrocity she cobbled up together through sleepless nights of insomnia.

_Pathetic._

Drowning her sorrows in alcohol seemed ideal but counter-intuitive; she promised herself not to turn back to the bottle, not since she became shit-faced at her grandfather’s funeral and needed her stomach pumped.

Instead, she made coffee and put on the _Hallmark Channel_ because if she was going to feel _this_ pathetic, she might as well go all the way without getting intoxicated or inhibited. Bad acting and predictable storylines could be the flimsy band-aid to her woes.

Sitting through the opening cheery credits of _Blue Lake Love_ , Rey ignored the itch in her fingers to grab her keys and go to the closest liquor shop three blocks away.

 

* * *

 

**Three and Half Months Earlier**

 

Old habits die hard.

Like the temptation of free food in correspondence of attending a less than appeasing event.

From vague knowledge, specifically television and film, Rey knew these sorts of things had snacks—maybe to make others feel better about going out of their way to group therapy.

Like—‘ I didn’t really talk about my crippling depression nor the fact I haven’t spoken to anyone in three weeks, but hey at least I got a free muffin out of this shit’.

At least that was what Rey told herself as she stood in front of the snack table, briefly wondering if the smell was coming from the shitty coffee or from the fact she hadn’t showered in almost a week and the smell was her natural odor and her deodorant mixing in a less than appealing cacophony of pomegranate and cucumber sent.

For context, she put on _a lot_ of deodorant.

Like more than any human should, and maybe rolled some on between her boobs because sweat accumulated there in an abundance for some reason.

Vegan and cruelty free muffins sat in the center of the plate, along with other healthy options on the snack table.

Unfortunately, Rey didn’t realize the contents of the food until she took a hardy bite of what she believed to be a chocolate chip muffin to be met with rubbery raisins.

“ _Fucking shit_ ,” she gagged out through her mouthful. Frantically, she searched for a paper napkin, finding some Hawaiian print tucked on the corner of a match paper plate.

Without reservation, she spat out the muffin into the napkin. Little pieces stuck to her tongue with great vigor. Reaching her index finger in her mouth, she raked the remaining soggy pieces off her tongue and on to the napkin.

Smacking her mouth, Rey sighed with relief. All the traitorous muffin was gone from her mouth and she could live peacefully for the next few moments.

“That’s a sight,” a voice mutter beside her as Rey wiped the remaining muffin bits from her finger.

Lifting her gaze, the man appeared blurry, Rey seeing over the top of her glasses. With the back of her hand, she shoved her glasses further up her nose and mentally _reeled_.

Massive man—ala _tol man_ —stood less than a couple of feet away from her, a muffin in his hand. Thankfully it was blueberry and freaking _looked_ like blueberry and not raisin like hers. His brown honey eyes—never in her life did she think to use that terminology to describe someone’s freaking eyes, but _damn_ —narrowed on her with an exasperation she’d only seen from her grandfather.

“Has anyone taught you how to discreetly spit out awful food?” he then said, as though it were a skill set taught by the highest etiquette schools on this side of the country.

An average person would have merely coward to the side, intimidated by his obtuse presence, or at the very least ignore him until they could bitch about it to their friends.

Of course, Rey wasn’t average as her grandfather loved to remind her, and she had a knack for getting into fights with those twice her size growing up—

A trait she did not grow out of at twenty-three years of age.

“Has anyone told you it is rude to stare? Watching like some creep as I spat my food,” she argued back, her accent regrettably thicker as her temper got the best of her. “You like to get off on that?”

His eyebrows flew into his hairline, lips— _why the hell were his lips so darn plush? What fucking god decided on this?—_ scrunched to the side.

“No, no I don’t. I usually don’t ‘get off’” he used air quotes, still able to hold the blueberry muffin in one hand, “on that. I prefer not to get off at all—it’s called a symptom of depression,” he quipped dryly, taking bite of the muffin.

She noticed a cringe forming in a slow wave over his face as the taste finally hit his tongue.

Stubbornly, he swallowed, not inch of remorse on his face he did so.

He didn’t smirk, as she expected someone of his sad smugness to react. Instead, he kept the muffin in his hand and walked to the accumulating circle in the center of the room.

“Prick,” she muttered to his retreating form.

Tossing the napkin away, she decided to join the others, sitting as far away from Mr. Tol-Prick in the circle. He sat closest to the door, as though waiting to bolt whenever necessary. An ideal seat for her if he hadn’t already claimed it. No one else seemed upset with this, as though expecting the man to sit there.

With some hesitation Rey sat in the chair beside a young, petite Asian woman who was more consumed with the necklace in her hand than anyone else around her.

Perfect—no small talk necessary with a woman who was also lost in her own world.

As they waited for the session to begin, a few other men and women smiled in her direction, Rey not returning the sentiment. Thankfully no one appeared to be offended, a unspoken understanding within everyone in the group. At the head of the circle, a young man sat with his head held high, regarding the group with genuine warmth. Rey had to hand it to him—to have genuine warmth was a skill, one she struggled to grapple with no matter how many times her grandfather told her being ‘warm’ was _simple_.

Simple? More like waiting to get back stabbed in the back.

“Looks like we have some new and returning faces in the crowd, lets go ahead and introduce ourselves—I’m Dr. Andor, a counselor here at Takodana Wellness Center. I specialize in grief, substance abuse, anxiety, and clinical depression. A ‘jack of all trades’ if you will.” A few laughed at the cheap joke; Rey nor Mr. Tol-Prick didn’t. “Why don’t we start this way,” he motioned to his right, “and make our way around the circle. It should be quick since there is only a few of us tonight.”

Rey glanced around— _seven_.

There were only seven of them there.

Damn, she was going to have to talk wasn’t she?

The first few people Rey tuned out—she wasn’t there to make friends.

She was there because her roommate was concerned and cried at her bedside when he found her passed out in her bed with too much vodka between her sheets and unopened bottle of aspirin.

It wasn’t like she was going to _off_ herself—but it sure as hell looked like that to poor Finn.

“Um, hi I’m Rose,” the woman beside her greeted the circle, a small smile on her lips. “I guess I’m here because it’s been a few months since Paige’s passing, and with her birthday this month,” Rose shrugged, “best to be safe than sorry.”

A few mumbled greets passed through before eyes were set on Rey expectantly. Sitting up, she tucked her hands into her hoodie’s pockets, hopping nobody would see her bit-raw nails and fingers.

Everyone said it was a sign of anxiety. She didn’t want a label slapped on to her just yet.

“Uh, my name is Rey,” she said slowly, her mind struggling to figure out where to begin. So she just decided to talk, and whatever came out, came out and that was that. “My grandfather—my primary caregiver for my entire life, my only fucking living family— _died_. And the shitty thing is he didn’t even fucking die of old age, he was in an _accident_.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. Her fingers picked furiously at each other in their hiding place. “A trip down the stairs and then he is _fucked_ , and I told him to move—I fucking _told him_ to move and to not be in that death trap house anymore. But did he listen? _No_. The stubborn bastard didn’t listen and now he is six feet under like all the rest of his cohort because they were all obtuse and arrogant dipshits as well,” she heaved a sigh, eyes focused on the scuffed linoleum floor, “And now my roommate thinks I’m going to kill myself over that old bastard— _when I’m not,”_ she clarified hastily, deciding to leave out the fact she had to get her stomach pumped the night after the funeral. No one needed to know that incident. “And that’s the reason why I am here.”

Silence followed, the circle watching her with heavy hearts and stunned expressions. Rey slouched in on herself, glaring at anyone who made eye contact.

Luckily, no one did.

Clearing his throat, Dr. Andor made the venture to make eye contact. “Rey—have you spoken to anyone about this—about how you feel since your grandfather’s passing?”

Her brows furrowed. “No, why else do you think the fuck I am here? To talk about my shit and my shitty life, like the rest of you shitheads.” Dr. Andor blinked at her, speechless.  “No offense,” she tacked on a second later.

A loud bark of laughter echoed in the room.

Rey whipped her head around to the opposite direction, where Mr. Tol-Prick sat chortling his pants off with no sight of stopping.

“Ben,” Dr. Andor sighed, “this isn’t funny.”

Mr. Tol-Prick—or Ben, as Dr. Andor called him—sat forward from his slump, forearms now braced on his knees as his eyes glinted with weighted mirth.

“Oh, I don’t know. I usually find it humorous when I'm repeatedly called a piece of shit. It makes us humble,” he said with a shrug.

No one else agreed with his comment, choosing to not look his way as well.

Dr. Andor nodded slowly, wisely deciding to not respond to Ben’s comment. Apparently Dr. Andor knew this pattern taking the interruption with stride, well as much stride as anyone could. “Alright, since you disrupted the flow, why don’t you introduce yourself?”

Ben glanced at the faces, resignation on his face. “I am Ben, and I am here because I am the last Skywalker in existence.”

Dr. Andor huffed, his sole focus Ben. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t view it like that—your mother is still around. Isn’t she in remission?”

Ben shook his head, hands rubbing together. “Not for long—just got the call this morning. Cancers back and she’s got about a month, maybe less,” he said nonchalantly, though he was trembling.

From anger or from grief, no one could tell.

After a moment, the man beside him spoke up. “I’m Mitaka…”

And the session continued without any more hiccups, though that did not stop Dr. Andor from cornering her after.

“Rey, this group is specifically for grief—”

“Which I am going through,” she interrupted, arms crossed over her chest.

“Yes, but this is structured for support. A support group, not so much on the therapy side of it all,” he stated slowly, Rey raising her eyebrows for him to continue, “I think you’d benefit from maybe attending our Tuesday night sessions. It is more cognitive therapy. We go on outings, find healthy coping mechanisms together, more of a community for those who are in more a depressive state—”

“I’m not depressed,” she said automatically. “Depressed people… they look sad and shit.”

Dr. Andor watched her carefully for a moment. “When was the last time you slept without the aid of a substance? Alcohol, sleeping pills…”

Rey squirmed, readjusting her crossbody purse.

“…Or the last time you showered?” he asked quietly.

Her eyes snapped to him, firm and harrowing.

Dr. Andor did not flinch, merely viewing her with knowing eyes. “I know all the tricks and ticks, Rey.”

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, snatching the rosy and cheery pamphlet from his hand. “Whatever, I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

She marched out of there with every intention of not returning. She didn’t need help—it’d always been her and her grandfather against the world. They never needed anyone except each other. Going to group therapy felt like admitting failure—that she was a screw up like the rest of the world. That somehow her determined and caring grandfather failed her, didn’t raise her right or give her the right tools to be a fucking adult.

Rey decided as she chucked the pamphlet into the bathroom trash bin, she was not going to that Tuesday session.

That is until _Finn_ saw the damn pamphlet wedged between an empty tampon box and used tissues.

“You are going, Peanut,” he said, towering over her as she sat on the couch.

“No,” she said, wrapping her grandfather’s blue flannel blanket tighter around herself. “It’s full of morons.”

Finn stared hard, chewing on the inside of his cheek before sighing. “If you don’t do it, I’m moving out.”

“ _What_?”

He nodded more surely this time, hands on his hips. “I’m moving out if you don’t do this—I can’t be living with someone who is becoming toxic—”

“I’m not toxic!”

“Not now, but you are heading there!” he argued, his voice cracking. He scrubbed his face, faltering back. “Rey, maybe this is selfish, but you are all I got left too.”

“It’s not the same,” she muttered. “You have _always_ been an orphan and I—”

Finn was already walking out the door, grabbing his keys. “I can’t talk to you when you are acting like this—I’m going to Poe’s. Have fun getting drunk again, because I know that’s what you are going to do once I’m gone.”

Before she could respond, the door slammed shut.

Finn was right; she did get drunk.

But she also planned to go to the Tuesday session. She at least owed him that.

 

* * *

 

“You’re a Kenobi.”

Half a mini cucumber sandwich in her mouth, Rey turned to see Mr. Tol-Prick— _ahem, Ben_ —standing beside her at the snack table.

Fuck. He was at the Tuesday session too.

“ _Ehuese ne_?” she said with her mouth full of cucumber, mayo, and _egg?_

She gaged a little as the egg and mayo mixed uncomfortably on her tongue.

He sneered. “Are you going to spit that out too?”

 _Yes_.

“No,” she said, swallowing the food stubborn. A rainbow of emotions shadowed her face as she pushed the mini cucumber sandwich down her throat, Ben quirking an eyebrow at her theatrics. Once down and gone, she opened her mouth to him with pride. “See? There—I ate it.”

He didn’t say anything, just taking another bite of his macadamia cookie.

Rolling her eyes, she reached for a Styrofoam cup, about to grab some coffee.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ben warned. “It’s always decaf—they don’t want anyone to get amped on caffeine.”

At that, she crumpled the cup in her hand and tossed it in the little bin beside the table. She then took a mini water bottle from the assortment on the table. Peering up at him, she adjusted her glasses higher on her nose and unscrewed her cap.

“How do you know I’m a Kenobi?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Not everyone in this town with a British accent is a Kenobi, you know.”

“I was at your grandfather’s funeral,” Ben said simply, dusting his hands off from cookie crumbs.

“I didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah, because you were shit faced,” he remined her, grabbing his own little water bottle. “Everyone knew you were, but no one wanted to say it because it was ‘oh, poor Kenobi girl she’s all alone… _again’_.”

She ignored the comment, scanning his face. He looked… _familiar_. Beyond her initial judgement of him on Sunday of tall and honey-brown eyes, Ben held a familiarity she could not place her finger on.

“Why were you at the funeral?”

“Our families were friends,” he explained lightly, fiddling with the unopen water bottle in his hands. “Your grandfather was my grandfather’s foster brother. They always looked out for each other, hell Old Kenobi use to babysit me when I was a kid.”

“I don’t remember you,” she admitted with complete honesty.

“Of course you don’t,” he said with a mirthless chuckle, “Because we never met until now. Our families had a falling out some twenty years ago,” he rolled his honey-brown eyes, lips quirked to the side in distaste, “but hey, it’s really only the two of us now. The last Kenobi and Skywalker,” he clinked their water bottles together, “Here’s to hoping we let their shitty dynasty and genetics die with us.”

He took a sip of his water.

Rey didn’t.

“I’m not fucking toasting to that,” she gritted. “Some of us actually _like_ our families.”

“What family?” he reminded her sharply, “You’re an orphan, like me.”

“You still have your mother,” she said, echoing Dr. Andor’s sentiment from days previous.

He gave her an empty smile. “I’m just trying to get use to the idea, so I don’t end up fucked up like you.”

Rey scoffed. “Oh fuck you.” She marched off, flipping him the bird.

His broad and loud chuckle mocked her as she sat down in one of the five seats set out in the circle. Only another person sat in the circle already, the nice mousey man from the Sunday session, Mitaka.

“Looks like Ben’s in rare form,” he mumbled, taking out a notebook. He glanced at Rey and forced a smile. “He’s not like that all the time. Ben’s actually really cool, the stuff with his mom is just getting to him,” he explained quietly.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she declared, pulling out her own notebook.

The session required keeping a journal and Rey had plenty, a newly bought set of bound journals sitting neatly at her desk since before the accident.

After a few moments, Dr. Andor entered smiling at the group and motioning the brooding Ben to join the circle.

Rey tried not to scream when Ben took the seat beside her, when there was a perfectly adequate seat beside Mitaka.

“Nice to see you three,” Dr. Andor greeted, his eyes catching the empty seat in the circle. “Looks like we are just waiting on Kaydel—”

“She’s always late,” Ben announced, glancing at Rey. “Never expect us to start on time.”

Rey frowned, turning to Dr. Andor. “Is there only four of us in this session?”

“I told you it was smaller, more community building,” he said, not really answering the question. “Just give it a try.”

She leaned back into her seat, preparing to tell Finn some outlandish story as to why she couldn’t go back to therapy. Like how the building flooded or how it was really a commune…

He probably wouldn’t buy any of it, but it didn’t stop her imagination from running wild.

“Ben, why don’t you start?” Dr. Andor prompted. “How is the new job going?”

Ben sat up, his journal shut tightly on his thigh. “It’s…going better than expected,” he said, honesty in his tone. “I am still not the biggest fan of kids, but I some of the students are growing on me.”

“I mean, kids are awful, but teenagers?” Mitaka asked. “They are almost adults.”

Ben smirked. “You’d be surprised by some of the crap teenagers try to pull. Let’s just say I am relieved I teach the honors class and no one tries to stir up drama in there because I scare the living shit out of them.”

Both Dr. Andor and Mitaka chuckled at that, while Rey watched on.

“So the question is, are you happier teaching English to eleventh graders or would you prefer to go back and work as an attorney?” Dr. Andor asked.

“I certainly enjoyed my pay as attorney,” Ben stated stiltedly, arms crossed over his broad chest. “But I like arguing with teenagers about Shakespeare more,” he rolled his eyes. “My mom likes the schedule more, I can visit her after work, so she likes the change.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” Dr. Andor pressed sternly.

“Because I don’t have a definite answer yet.” Ben’s gaze drifted away from the group focusing on the linoleum. “I’ll let you know when I do.”

“Alright, I can take that,” Dr. Andor then set his eyes on Mitaka, “How about you? How did the appointment go?”

“Doc wants to switch anti-depressants, but I don’t think I want to? I mean yeah…I guess it would be nice to sleep, but other than that, I’m great,” Mitaka announced earning a snort from Ben.

“At least its not erectile disfunction—it’s shit experiencing that,” Ben commented, before catching Rey’s eye. “Not—not that _I_ have experienced that—”

“Uh, huh. _Sure_ ,” she said feeling her lips begging to smirk.

But she didn’t.

Ben huffed, “It was my uncle who had the problem—”

“You know about your uncle’s sex life.”

“No I didn’t, and he’s dead,” he clarified, sharply.

Ignoring the two, Dr. Andor focused on Mitaka. “Maybe you and your doctor can reach a compromise,” he began to explain when the door was thrown open.

A young woman with dirty blonde hair piled up on her head rushed in with a flurry, taking the only other open seat between Ben and Mitaka.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” the woman rambled out, “My shift—”

“We know,” Dr. Andor nodded in understanding. “Mitaka here was just telling us—”

“No, no, no,” Mitaka blundered out, eyes wide and starry for the woman beside him. “Kaydel can go—how was your exam?” he said with a not so subtle blissful sigh.

Rey glanced at Ben, eyebrow quirked up in question.

Apparently he knew exactly what she was thinking. He nodded slowly, rolling his eyes.

Well, shit. Poor little guy Mitaka was head over heels for blonde, free spirit beauty and she seemed completely unaware. The girl—Kaydel—worked as a yoga instructor at a local gym and had the late shifts due to her class schedule. She was upbeat, smiled, and laughed with gusto. She believed in happy vibes and wore healing stones on her wrists, as well as a cross around her neck. She reminded Rey of a gypsy, but there was something genuine about her. As though she wanted others to be satisfied and joyful despite the downfalls of life.

Rey could not believe a sunshine human like her was sitting amongst a group of dysfunctional and depressed mourners.

That was until Dr. Andor did his prying—“Your anniversary is coming up, any plans how you are going to spend the day?”

Her joyful face darkened, lips firmly in a silent pout.

She shrugged. “It’s been two years,” a smile rose then fell instantaneously from her lips, “my girlfriend of four years died—what do you expect me to do? I thought I was going to marry her.”

Dr. Andor didn’t say anything, understanding shining in his eyes.

“Well… you can spend time with friends, family—”

“My family doesn’t talk to me since I came out,” she glanced at Rey, “I’m bi—my family disowned me like a not potato when I finally told them,” she explained quickly before turning back to Dr. Andor, “And friends? I don’t have friends,” she said with a water chuckle. “They all abandoned me when I went off the deep end—”

“If you need someone to call, you can call me,” Ben offered monotonously. “I’ll probably be with my mom, but she doesn’t mind the company. In fact, she thrives in it.”

“Oh Ben, your mom—How is Leia?” Kaydel immediately switched topics, not going unnoticed by anyone in the circle.

Rey saw Dr. Andor make note of it out of the corner of her eye.

Apparently he _really_ was keeping tabs and monitoring the discussion. Go figure—for a moment she thought she willingly joined a cult.

“It’s back. Going to kill her this time,” he answered not caving into the caring tones of Kaydel. Instead he remained unattached.

Dr. Andor cleared his throat.

“But, in the face of all negativity I remain hopeful,” he said stiltedly, reciting words he must have memorized for Dr. Andor’s sake. “Because we need hope to live,” he finished off, dragging out the last phrase.

“Rey,” Dr. Andor brought his attention to her, the three other set of eyes following suit, “Why don’t you tell us about your average day?”

Her eyes darted between the four faces—Dr. Andor’s patient and kind eyes, Mitaka’s puppy dog curiosity, Kaydel’s muted yet intrigued gaze, and Ben’s…

Ben’s open, honest honey-brown eyes.

Rey looked away, coughing into her shoulder. She peeked back up at Dr. Andor. “In front of everyone?”

“We are here to be a support, there isn’t judgement—”

“Beyond the usual,” Ben muttered, earning a nudge from Kaydel and whispers to ‘shut up’.

Dr. Andor nodded at her. “You can start where ever you see fit.”

Rey swallowed, unsure of where to look. She decided on the painting across from her, a pinkish-purple sunset.

“Uh…I…I um…” she squeezed her hands together, “I use to go to visit my grandfather in the mornings where I would work on whatever piece I was given—I’m a ghostwriter…” she trailed off, remembering she had a deadline coming in the next few weeks and nowhere near finished. “But then I worked in the afternoons at my grandfather’s bookshop.” And she needed to still pay rent. The landlord was cutting her slack since Kenobi’s passing but she could only use the grieving card for so long before she received an eviction notice. “He loved that place—it was where so many writers got their start, letting them use the space to think creatively and use the work rooms and…”she closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath, “I’d trade off shifts with Finn—he’s my roommate—he’d take the mornings and I’d take afternoons because he wanted to visit his boyfriend whenever he could.”

She paused, licking her lips.

“Then I’d close up shop, go back to visit grandfather. Make him dinner, make sure he had his medication. Clean up the house a bit, then go home…and do the same thing again.”

Silence fell over the group as Dr. Andor wrote notes into his legal pad.

“It sounds like your grandfather was an integral part of your life,” the therapist said softly. “Did you do much without him?”

“Yeah…but then he got sick and I sped through school and,” she shrugged, still not looking at anyone, “I focused on him because he was all I had left.”

“And how are your days now?” Dr. Andor ventured.

Ben shifted beside her, while Kaydel and Mitaka waiting patiently.

“I get up when I wake up…which is sometimes noon,” she winced, “or sometimes three in the morning or five in the afternoon—I don’t work a nine to five job, and Finn takes care of the bookshop…so there is no need to really get up or do anything besides write or…” she shook her head, realizing how empty and despondent her life became from her grandfather’s absence.

She simply stopped speaking there.

She wasn’t too sure how much time had passed until a voice spoke up.

“Dr. Andor, it’s almost nine,” Mitaka reminded the therapist, “Do you want to do weekly challenges?”

“Right,” he nodded to the young man, flipping through his notepad. “Mitaka, your homework it speak with your doctor, see if you can reach compromise and remember—you are the patient. Your voice matters,” he then turned to Kaydel, “Find someone to be with on the anniversary. It doesn’t have to be Ben or anyone who knows, just someone. You shouldn’t be alone.” His eyes landed on Ben, “Be kind to your mother. She doesn’t have much time left; make these moments matter.”

The three murmured different responses, Dr. Andor dismissing them as he turned to Rey. He waited until the three left the room to speak.

“I need you to find something to add to your routine,” he said with little room for argument.

She huffed, “Like what?”

“Something simple to add—like going to the gym, or taking up a class. Getting a part time job…something to break up the sleeping and writing routine you apparently have.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I smell the alcohol on you,” he said bluntly, standing up from his chair. “I don’t want to smell that on you again when you come here. One of the other members has a substance abuse problem. And while I don’t think you are quite there yet…” he sighed deeply, “I don’t want you to ever be there.”

Throat dry, she nodded, picking up her purse. “Alright, I’ll… try.”

“That’s all I ask,” he said with understanding.

Rey ignored the guilt gnawing at her as she left the building, taking two steps at a time as she rushed down the stoop stairs.

“Whoa roadrunner,” Ben’s voice called out as she speed past him. She ignored him as she ambled down the street, head down. Before she knew it, a pair of long legs began to match her pace easily.  “I know therapy sometimes sucks, but it get worse before it gets better.”

She slowed down a fraction, glancing up at him. “And you’re an expert?”

He tilted his head side to side, mulling over the question. “Not an expert, but amateur enthusiast.”

Rolling her eyes, she started to take the steps up the train stop, Ben still beside her. “I can see how you were an attorney.”

“Fucking hated it, but I was good at it,” he shook his head as though embarrassed by his previous profession. “That’s the thing, just because you are good at something, doesn’t mean you need to like it.”

Rey ignored how true the sentiment rang in her ears. Standing at the train stop, the air picked up, rustling through their hair and clothes. Yet no train appeared in sight.

“This one always runs late,” Ben explained once he noticed she was looking at the schedule. “I take it all the time; it stops for small layover and they never work it into the schedule because they think they will always make time.” He paused, peering down at her. “They never do, and it is a never ending cycle of lateness for all those who take the 745.”

Rey choose not to interact, glancing at her watch.

“He asked you to add something to your routine, right?” Ben asked, zipping up his jacket.

Her head snapped up at the correct observation, her eyes narrowing. “Yes…how did you know?”

“He tells everyone that after their first session,” he shoved his hands into his pockets. “He’d be happy with anything,” he advised lightly.

“What did you add to your routine?”

“I got a dog,” he answered with a big grin. “I love that beast, my best friend. Gets me up in the morning even when I feel like shit, forces me to take him on walks and feed him because it’s not just me I got to keep alive now, it’s another living thing.” His entire face brightened at the mention of his dog, almost boyish in unbridled joy.

Oddly enough, Rey found herself envious of such joy.

“Isn’t that what mother’s say when it comes to taking care of children?” she quipped. “Are you motherly Ben?”

“As motherly as a bird.”

She frowned. “But birds _are_ motherly.”

He raised his eyebrows up in shock, “You call shoving your baby birds from your nest _motherly_? Birds are fucking vicious and I will not believe otherwise,” he said with the utmost conviction.

A traitorous snort escaped her, Rey muffling it behind her hand. “It’s to teach them how to fly.”

“It’s to kill them because mama bird is tired of vomiting her food to feed some ungrateful, squawking aliens,” he argued with great ferocity, causing more chuckles to spill from Rey.

“That’s not how mother nature works—”

“Fuck mother nature,” he shouted, earning a curious glance from a couple passing by. “I don’t really mean ‘fuck mother nature’—” he attempted to call out, but the two were already gone. He turned back to Rey, a forced frown on his lips. “See what you made me do? You made me look like an idiot in front of strangers I will never see again in my life. First impression—gone like that,” he snapped his fingers.

“You are now speaking gibberish,” she declared shaking her head as her chuckles died.

He peered down at her with a ghost of smile. “Yeah, but it made you laugh.”

She didn’t smile at that observation.

“It’s not a bad thing to laugh when you are grieving.”

“Do you laugh? Mr. Last of the Skywalkers?” she implored darkly, not in the mood for chuckles and silliness anymore.

“Yes,” he answered slowly, “on Sunday, when this new person in therapy announced she only came to talk about her shit and her shitty life with a bunch of shitheads.”

She cringed, nose scrunching up. “Did I actually say that?”

“Yup.”

“For the record, I was still fighting a hangover.”

“Do not find an excuse for those exquisite words and observations,” he insisted earnestly. “Sometimes we need someone to come in and tell us the truth.”

The whistle of the train sounded down the track, it rumble humming the floor with vibrations.

“I think therapy is selfish,” she declared.

Ben didn’t react visibly, his lips barely twitching. “Of course it is. It is people who come to talk about their problems and seeking ways to figure out how to function in their own brain.”

The train came to a stop, its doors opening. Ben waved for her to go first, Rey entering the car. She heard Ben stepping in after her, following her lead. She sat down only a couple feet away from the door, Ben taking the spot beside her.

She turned to him, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “If you think it is selfish, why are you in it?”

He blinked at her like she was stupid. “For the obvious reason—I’m selfish,” he answered simply.

She tried her best to not huff and puff at his answer—she was getting annoyed with his cheekiness. This arsehole apparently knew how to get under her skin after spending less than two hours with her and he thought he was high and mighty because of it.

She didn’t have time for this shit.

As though sensing her thoughts, Ben spoke up again, his words as sure and sharp as before. “Believe it or not, I actually want to be happy in this fucked up life. Call it selfish, or whatever, but I think…I think it’s really survival.” He swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing, his eyes focusing on everything and nothing at the same time. “I was never taught how to survive, so I think it’s about damn time I figure it out rather than flying by the seat of my pants.”

“That’s a thought,” was all she said, looking away from his honey-brown eyes.

Silence fell between the two as the train shifted and swayed to it’s next destination. Yet Rey felt like talking for once in her life, and to talk to the idiot sitting beside her.

Well she shouldn’t really call him an idiot. Ben was intelligent to the point she felt like the insensitive idiot, but for some reason she wanted to know more about him despite knowing it

“Our grandfather’s were friends?” she asked to fill the silence.

“Yup.”

More silence ensued, Rey’s eyes darting between Ben and the window of Takodana passing by.

“Were you fond of your grandfather?” she found herself asking.

Ben blinked. “For a moment…until I realized I never knew him.”

“I don’t know if I was fond of mine,” she said quietly. “But I think they were fond of each other.”

“I…think since we are the last of such _wonderful_ men,” he said drenched in disdain, “we should look out for each other.”

He held his hand out for a shake.

Her eyes flickered up to his palm then his honey-brown gaze.

“I don’t like you,” she declared frankly, “I don’t think I’ll ever like you.”

He winced a little, but still held his hand out. “I don’t think I like you either, but it’s a shitty world with shitty people. Might as well watch out for the decent ones.”

Begrudgingly, she shook his hand.

“Fine, but _only_ because our families were friends.”

She didn’t know Ben, but maybe she owed it to her grandfather to try and get to know the family he held on such a pedestal.

Maybe she’d understand him.


	2. wallow music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is another chapter :)
> 
> Typos will be fixed later!
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

 

For the first week of homework, Rey tried going to the gym.

And passed out from dehydration.

“Peanut,” Finn sighed as he sat with her the urgent care waiting room, “You need to drink more water. Like for every drink or cup of coffee, you need to drink double the amount of water.”

“I _know_ how bodies and hydration work, Finn. I was just trying something out,” she grumbled, sipping pathetically at the water in a little paper cup. “I took seventh grade science with the rest of you lot.”

“You fell off a treadmill,” Finn stressed, nodding to the wrap around her ankle.

A kid sitting across from her snickered, breaking into a cough.

“Shut up, Finn,” Rey hissed, “Kids are laughing at me.”

“Let them laugh—it should teach you a lesson about maintaining a healthy diet while trying to perform exercise—”

“You sound like a nagging mother,” she said, ignoring the flash of hurt on his face. “I get it—I fucked up, nothing new.”

Finn didn’t say anything more, opting to remain silent as they waited for her name to be called.

 

* * *

 

Since her endeavors with the gym failed, Rey decided to be an overachiever—old habits die hard—and try something _else_.

After all she didn’t want to be the only one in group therapy to not complete her homework. She was already the new kid, adding incompetency on top of that was a ‘no, no’ for her.

So Rey decided on something simple, within the same realm.

Like getting up for a morning run.

Miraculously, it _worked_.

She’d get up at six in the morning, before Finn woke up, and would do a couple of laps around the block. Cold air kissed her skin with abundance and the lack of people in the streets actually calmed her, rather than strike a nerve of paranoia.

She found herself liking it, adding it to her mornings.

She _also_ found herself keeping her old routine.

Once coming in from her morning run, Rey would immediately fall back asleep and not wake up until noon. Or five in the afternoon, or three in the morning.

Her days were still filled with writer’s block and nights were alcohol induced hazes, only with a bit more hydration involved since Finn’s concerned never ceased when they were in the same room with each other.

After the fourth day of adding morning runs to her routine, Rey decided it should stay…and maybe came to the conclusion the rest of her routine was a little fucked up and she didn’t know what to do about it.

Of course, she realized this three bottles in and would likely forget by the time the Tuesday session rolled around.

 

* * *

 

Considering her options, Rey ventured for what _looked_ like a lemon bar. She’d hadn’t eaten for most of the day, only scarfing down three bowls of cereal in the morning. Something of real substance was appealing, though she had been burned twice by the fatal snack table.

Maybe this time she’d be proven wrong.

Once it was in her mouth, she quickly realized it was a covert pineapple upside down bite, and instantly wanted to gag and spit out the remains.

Naturally, Ben decided to make his presence known.

“Those are Ms. Katana’s creation,” he said, nodding over to the tiny woman who was chatting with Rose. “You’d be more of an idiot than I think you are if you spat that out.”

“ _Wha_?” she asked, balancing the bite in her mouth to refrain from swallowing.

“Ms. Katana donates a shit ton of money to the Wellness Center,” Ben explained, picking a safe option from the table; a store bought sugar cookie with confetti sprinkles on top. “She comes once a month to talk about all the lovers she lost and brings the pineapple upside down cake every time. No one eats it, but Dr. Andor will fill up a take-home container before she leaves. Just so she thinks they are being eaten.”

“ _Bub, thawbs enabawling_ ,” she said with her mouth full.

Huffing, Ben handed her a napkin. “Do it quick, she’s not looking.”

Rather than take the napkin, like a normal person, Rey did the first thing that came to mind when under pressure.

She spat the food in his awaiting hand.

Only half of the dreaded pineapple upside down cake landed on the napkin, the rest in Ben’s palm.

Never in her life did Rey want to become an ostrich and bury her head from the rest of the world. Well, not the rest of the world, just specifically Ben, who stood opposite her with his palm still stretched out.

Terrified, she glanced up at him.

Before her, he stood stock still, his tongue pressing to side of his cheek. His honey-brown eyes were closed shut, hidden from her.

“Did you just—?”

“Yes.”

“Into my—?”

“Uh, huh,” she squeaked, her hands covering her face.

Hesitantly, she peeked at him through her fingers.

He stood still, massive and unmoving.

“And you thought—?

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her face flushing. “I panicked.”

Pressing his lips together, he opened his eyes. “In what world, does me handing you a napkin warrant you to spit out your food in my hand?”

His voice was eerily quiet, Rey coming to sudden realization Ben could indeed be a frightening man if he so desired.

She dropped her hands to her side, a string of apologies stirring in her mind.

However, all that came out was—“Well, if you really were a creep this can serve your fantasies for year, at least.”

“I’m not even going to respond to that,” he hissed, before making his way to the trash bin.

She thought he would hate her and avoid her after the _spitting_ incident.

Yet Ben sat next to her in the circle. He rolled his eyes and shared glances of disdain with her every time some gave a dramatic explanation of the events that led them there. 

Mitaka sat on the other side of her, smiling brightly like the puppy boy he was and only spoke once in the circle. Something she noticed early on with he pipsqueak guy was his shyness; he preferred to listen than share in larger groups. Clearly he benefited from the Tuesday sessions.

As the session came to a close, Ben nudged her foot with his.

“Do have any plans tonight?” he asked quietly. He nodded to Mitaka. “We usually go out after the Sunday night session, you’re welcome to join us.”

Mitaka leaned over, beaming with excitement. “We play skeeball. Ben usually pays because he’s super competitive.”

Ben sighed, rubbing his eyes. “We go there for the beer and chicken wings Mitaka, not for the broken skeeball machine.”

The younger man shook his head knowingly. “It’s not broken, you just lose.” He picked up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. Leaning to Rey, Mitaka whisper conspiratorially, “He can be a sore loser, but trust me, it is fun to see him get riled up.”

“Get the fuck out of here and go to the car,” Ben held up his keys, “I’ll let you drive.”

The keys were gone and so was Mitaka before Ben could finish his offer.

“He’s…”

“Like a kid on sugar sometimes?” Ben asked knowingly. “Yeah, he gets really excited about Sunday Skeeball at the Cantina.”

“His parents…” she trailed off struggling to remember what exactly happened to them.

“Critical condition, basically brain dead,” he said with familiar remorse, not the first time nor last he’d be explaining this, “But his stone cold bitch aunt won’t pull the plug. He hates it.”

“Well, shit.”

“Yeah,” Ben stood up, “But he’s a good kid. Only eighteen, got a whole life ahead of him to figure things out.”

“So you let him hang out with you?” Rey asked, standing up to leave as well. Ben followed her lead, the two making their way out of the building.

“Only on Sunday nights, along with a few others from therapy,” he answered. “Like Rose,” he nodded to the woman walking ahead of them. “Hey, Rose—You going to the Cantina?”

She turned around and smiled at the two, her cell phone casting a blue glow on her face. “Yeah, just checking to see is Kaydel wants to join. She might not be up for it since, _you know_ ….” She trailed off with a shrug.

Right, Kaydel’s girlfriend’s anniversary.

“Tell her she has to come then,” Ben ordered, “If I had to fucking go when my dad’s anniversary rolled around, then she has to go,” he said with annoyance. “If she says no, tell her Rey’s coming. She might show up then.”

Rose grinned at Rey, “Great for you to join us—promise we are happier than we appear in the session.”

“That’s a fucking lie,” Ben muttered under his breath, though Rose ignored it. “But we try.”

Coming towards the parking lot, Rose parted to where her car was parked as Ben continued to lead the way.

Rey looked back in the opposite direction. “I take the train here—”

“So do I,” Ben glanced at her, “But not on Sundays. If you’re worried about a ride, I’m always designated driver so I can just take you back to your place after.”

Rey kept pace, her hands stuffed deeply in her pockets. Biting her lip, she tried to think of another excuse to not go. Maybe saying she hadn’t showered might do the trick…though she already spat her food into Ben’s hand. She highly doubted he would care if she showed up to a bar three days reeking, plus she was already there for the session.

Excuses were coming up short as they made it to Ben’s car, a 1970-something Ford Falcon that had seen better days. The off puke green finishing and paint was still intact but faded, and the wheels no longer matched the model, however the classic car had to have been loved for decades if it survived this long.

She never pegged Ben to be a car enthusiast…well she couldn’t really peg him to be anything to be perfectly honest. She hardly knew the man.

Sitting prepared in the driver’s seat was Mitaka, hands position in defensive driver position and his seatbelt clipped on. His lips were moving, as though muttering signals and crossroads to himself

“You have that look on your face,” he said simply and quietly.

“What _look_?”

“Like you want to run bat out of hell.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Rey _did_ want to run in the opposite direction and not join in their little Sunday Skeeball tradition.

“I just…” She rocked back and forth on her feet, her bare foot rubbing against the canvas sides of her shoes. In her haste, she didn’t put socks on, sliding her feet into her Converse before running out the door the catch the train. “I just don’t usually go out,” she settled on forcing out.

“I don’t either,” he said, eyes trailing and memorizing her face like it he was searching for _something_. Rey didn’t know what he was searching for, but she had enough gusto to not duck away like a silly school girl. She met his gaze straight on. “This is the only night I go out in the week, before that I never did anything. Just me and my apartment, and all my _Smiths_ records because if you going to wallow, you might as well have the right music for it.”

Her lips quirked. “Your go to wallow music is _The Smiths?_ ” She squinted up at him. “That’s terribly cliché. You’re like some emo-boy from the late 90s that never grew up.”

Her mind conjured up a lanky looking boy with Ben’s face and messy hair. Maybe eyeliner—emo-boys wore eyeliner right? A teenager Ben watching the world with complete and utter disdain--disdain only someone who'd been introduced to 80s punk music too early could achieve.

He merely shrugged, biting his lips together as he still watched her with his honey-brown eyes. “They are classic and sometimes you need Morrissey’s haunting and melodramatic voice to be the masking balm of pain.”

Was he also this damn poetic about depression and pain? Or was he just shitting her?

It honestly felt like a cheeky mix of both.

“Come on you have to have something better than _The Smiths_ ,” she insisted. “Like I don’t know… _New Order_ —”

Ben stifled a snort, “ _New Order_? That’s the first one that comes to mind? What do you listen to when you wallow? You know when you lay on bed or on the floor trying to forget you fucking exist for a moment.”

“I…” she shook her head, pushing back a loose hair from her messy bun, “…I don’t think I have go-to wallow music to be perfectly honest. I just kind of sit in silence.”

His eyebrows pulled together, a flash of vulnerability on his features. He cleared his throat. “Then you should—”

The blare of the car horn echoed in the empty parking lot.

Rey and Ben flinched at the sound, whipping their heads to Mitaka. Manually, he rolled down the window, it getting stuck halfway through. He stuck his face as close to opening as possible, his seatbelt restraining him a bit.

“You two can talk at the Cantina—beer and skeeball await!”

Ben scoffed, though a smile threatened the corner of his lips. “Expand your music taste’s, Rey,” he said as he rounded to the backseat door, opening the door for her.

Every cell in her body told her to run the other way—

She checked her watch.

_9:24PM_

Well, shit. She already missed the train. The fucking bastard probably planned it that way—keep her talking until she had no other option _but_ to go with them.

“ _Fine_ ,” she declared, sliding into the backseat.

With a swing, the door closed after her, Ben rushing around the car to the passenger seat. Once he was settled in, he quietly began to guide Mitaka through the steps of getting out of park and on to the road.

The car shook as Mitaka forgot to switch gears, the clutch burning. The smell gave Rey a quick flash to her high school years, also burning clutch like there was no tomorrow as he grandfather yelped and squawked in the passenger seat.

Peeking up at her in the rearview mirror, Ben winced a little though there was hidden joy in his eyes.

“Mitaka is still learning to drive—Cantina is only down the street,” he explained with a hint of sheepishness. “Wouldn’t let him drive if it was any further.”

“I can do it,” the eighteen year old muttered, “your car is just… _difficult_.”

“And the only one you can drive at the moment,” Ben reminded him.

“A 1977 Ford Falcon?” Rey finally asked. “Where’d you find one?”

Ben paused, taking a deep breath. “Um…I inherited it from my dad. He collected cars,” was all he said.

“Like _vintage_ cars,” Mitaka added.

Ben openly rolled his eyes at the kid. “That’s what someone usually means when they say ‘collected cars’.”

“I was just making sure Rey knew.”

“I’m pretty sure she knew if she _recognized_ the model Mitaka,” Ben shot back. “Go easy on the turn,” he muttered as an afterthought. His eyes looked back at her in rearview mirror. “You know cars?”

“I know them well enough,” she admitted, not exactly explaining how her grandfather’s ideal Saturday outing when she was a kid were the downtown car shows in whatever town within driving distance was having a viewing. Not to mention her grandfather’s maintained 1960s Corvette sat untouched in a garage. “I know my way around cars, but I am not… an _enthusiast_.”

“Neither am I,” Ben admitted, “But my dad was, and when you’re six you have little say over where you get to go on the weekends. So naturally I learned about cars.”

Rey felt bitter nostalgia stir up in her chest and rest firmly between her lungs. “Yeah…I understand,” she picked at the skin around her nails. “My grandfather was the same way.”

A silence fell between the two, Rey wishing away the congestion in her chest.

“Well…” Mitaka dragged out as the Cantina came into view, “I know absolutely nothing about cars—that’s why Ben is teaching me how to drive. He’s actually a really awesome teacher. Patient, yet stern.”

From the passenger seat Ben squirmed at the praise, looking anywhere but the two other’s sitting with him.

Carefully Mitaka pulled the car into park by the curb without guidance.

“Nice.” Ben nodded in approval. “You still burned clutch though.”

Mitaka groaned, dropping his head against the wheel.

“Better luck next time, kid.” Ben patted his arm, exiting the vehicle.

Without prompting, Ben opened Rey’s door before she could.

She didn’t smile at him but gave a half-hearted ‘thanks’ at the gesture. Part of her wondered why Ben was being gentlemanly towards her. Most men she met who acted that way wanted something more…yet when Ben did it, the gesture was a reflex. Probably instilled in him by his mother or some other figure.

The last time someone opened the door for her was her grandfather. He believed all ladies should have doors opened for them.

Rey thought it complete batshit. She could open her own bloody door.

Though she wouldn’t tell Ben that.

 

* * *

 

“ _Whoooooo_!” Mitaka cheered as he made another 1000 points at skeeball.

Standing in the other lane, Ben pursed his lips, taking a hard swing. The ball clearly missed, bouncing off the overhead and landing almost perfectly in the gutter. The taut pull of Ben’s shoulders and sharp focus were attributes of skill.

Anyone with eyes could see Ben, a skilled skeeball player, was _purposely_ losing.

Bemused with Mitaka’s cheering and intoxicated dancing, Ben walked away over to their table. He sat back down across from Rey, picking up his lemonade and taking a sip.

Most of their apparent night out involved buying their little underaged companion beer, sharing a basket of fries and chicken wings, and watching Mitaka play skeeball while tipsy. Some of the other’s joined them, Rose and Kaydel chatting at one of the booths with another face from that night’s session—Jason? Rey couldn’t remember, but it seemed as though the three were in deep conversation.

A conversation Rey had no intention of joining. Instead she sat with Ben and Mitaka and watched them play. She felt like a kid…or what she assumed a kid would feel like. Her grandfather was a paranoid sort, only letting her go out with trusted friends, never in large groups. Not to mention her afternoons were filled with helping around the bookstore and excelling in her academics.

Playing skeeball and eating junk was a new experience.

Across from her Ben quietly ate his food, keeping a watchful eye as Mitaka, tried and failed to flirt with one of the bartenders. With a sly hand, she stole one of his fries, capturing his attention.

“Why do you let him win?” Rey nodded to the kid. “He sucks, but you let him win.”

Ben shrugged one shoulder, a subtle sigh escaping him. “One time he won on a fluke and he got super excited,” he explained as he poured ranch over his boneless spicy buffalo wings. “Anyone else, I’d be breaking the damn machine and maybe break more than a few glasses from ‘rage’,” he used air quotes around the word, “but _him_?”

Both looked at Mitaka, the kid slumping at the bar. The sweet bartender took pity on him and gave him a simple margarita with more than one fun little paper umbrella decorating it.

“I’d be more of an asshole than I already am if I tried to fucking beat a kid like that.”

Rey didn’t argue on the sentiment, only stuffing her face with more fries and drinking hearty helpings of the beer on tap. It tasted like piss, but it was beer nonetheless.

“I have a confession,” Rey said as she lazily wiped off the liquid condensation from her beer mug.

Ben quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, do tell,” he mutter monotonously.

“This is the first time I have gone out in years,” she stated slowly, hardly believing the true words falling from her lips. “I think the last time I went out was…I was maybe…” she squinted at the ceiling, her glasses at the tip of her nose, “… _eighteen_? I went to college party—hated it. Realized maybe the party scene wasn’t for me.”

Ben whistled lowly, an indiscreet cringe on his face. “Shit—and you’re _how_ old?”

“Twenty-three,” she said picking up her beer for another gulp.

“You act older, but now I see it,” he declared as he picked up a buffalo wing, “the young eagerness of a twenty-something hidden under all that angst.” He leaned forward, point at her with the tip of the buffalo wing. “You never went through an emo phase growing up, did you? All that pent up adolescent anger? I can see it finally brewing in you now.”

“Stop waving that fucking buffalo wing in my face before I bite it out of your hand,” Rey threatened.

Ben took his hand back and ate the buffalo wing.

“If its any consolation,” Ben began as he finished off his food, “I was the same when I was twenty-three. Hate going out still, people are fucking annoying.”

As though on cue, the other group on the opposite side of the long table broke into boisterous laughter.

Ben sneered, wiping his hands with the napkin with more vigor than necessary.

“And you are _how_ old?” Rey taunted back, Ben’s antics flipping between brooding teen and caring adult like a runaway coin.

“Thirty-two, going to be thirty-three in November,” he answered. “And no, I’m not going to tell you the date. I don’t like celebrating my birthday.”

“I wasn’t going to ask for the date,” she replied, “Birthdays can be god awful.”

Her grandfather was never one for large spectacles during birthdays. He’d bake a simple champagne cake or chocolate cake—it switched back and forth every year—and stick some candles in and call it a day. Gifts were usually money or some new book she’d keep her eye on at the shop.

They were simple people with simple birthdays.

She recalled how one year Finn attempted to throw her a surprise party. However, she barely knew any of the people there, and the music played too loud with some R&B she never heard. She smiled through it all, but secretly snuck away only a few hours in, stealing the cake and bottle of wine to eat in her room.

She wasn’t too sure if it was her best or worst birthday.

Maybe both.

Ben smirked. “Someone finally gets it.” His forced mirth then sobered. “You just don’t like the attention?” he guessed, an agreement in his tone.

She nodded once, reaching to drink more of her beer—only to find it empty.

Reluctantly, she decided to cut herself off for the night, pushing the glass away.

She did not miss how Ben’s eyes were on her, watching her hands as they tapped at where her glass once sat.

He lifted his honey-brown eyes to her, a silent question hanging—the one she knew he wanted to ask.

Instead she ignored it, faking a yawn.

“I think I’m ready to go home,” she declared, before glancing over to where Mitaka, the boy on the verge of passing out against the bar. “And I think he is too.”

Ben looked at Mitaka and groaned. “I’m too old to be dragging around wasted idiots,” he muttered, already standing up and going to the kid’s aid.

Following his lead, Rey tried not to think too hard about Ben’s throw away comment.

 

* * *

 

** Ben **

**How do you like your coffee**

 

**_ Rey _ **

**_Excuse me?_ **

****

** Ben **

**I repeat—how do you like your coffee?**

** Ben **

**It’s a simple question.**

** Ben **

**Shouldn’t take you a year and a half to come to a conclusion.**

**_ Rey _ **

**_First—fuck off._ **

 

**_ Rey _ **

**_I was boarding the train you prick._ **

 

**_ Rey _ **

**_I know how I like my coffee._ **

** Ben **

**And…???**

 

** Ben **

**You are shit at responding to texts.**

 

** Ben **

**If you don’t respond in the next three minutes, I am going to**

**get you whatever the hell I think is most quintessential ‘Rey’ drink**

**—given that I have only know you for a week and half,**

**it should be completely wrong.**

 

** Ben **

**I am looking at the most sugar shit that is on this menu.**

 

** Ben **

**Nope, you know what, getting you something sugary is too damn**

**nice of me considering I said I would find a quintessential ‘Rey’ drink.**

 

** Ben **

**Fuck—what is more bitter than black coffee?**

**Espresso?**

 

** Ben **

**Shit, you probably like that.**

 

** Ben **

**Okay, I’m ordering.**

**And you’re screwed with whatever I pick.**

 

**_ Rey _ **

**_What part of *I AM ON A TRAIN* do you not understand?_ **

 

**_ Rey _ **

**_I have spotty reception._ **

 

** Ben **

**Excuses, excuses.**

 

* * *

 

As Rey scanned the snack table—no pastries or cookies, just crackers, ranch, hummus, and veggies—a paper to-go cup was shoved under her nose.

“It’s a white chocolate mocha.”

Leaning forward, she took a whiff of the drink, not taking the cup.

“I hate white chocolate,” she said, pulling away from the drink.

The large hand holding the cup twitched, a huff coming from Ben, yet it remained in front of her.

“Learn how to answer text messages,” he grumbled.

“ _I was on a train_ ,” she stressed, glaring back up at him.

Reaching over, he grabbed her hand and placed the cup in it. With a light squeeze, he forced her fingers to grip. “Last time I do some nice shit for you.” He then picked up his own cup sitting on the edge of the snack table and marched to his seat.

Stunned, Rey glanced back to the coffee in her hand.

She didn’t lie—she hated white chocolate, more of a dark chocolate gal. Yet the warm coffee in hand begged her to be otherwise.

With great strength, she lifted the drink to her lips and took a sip.

Sweet—far too sweet for her—yet she took another sip because…well because call her ridiculous, but she didn’t want to get on Ben’s bad side.

So Rey went over to the circle and sat next to Ben. A spot she was slowly claiming as her own.

Making a show of her motion, she took a large sip of the drink, trying to tell herself it was not as bad as it felt on her tongue.

“Nobody likes a kiss-ass, Rey,” Ben said, arms crossed over his chest as he drank the rest of his coffee.

“Well no one likes a grump,” she quipped back.

He rolled his eyes, looking anywhere but her.

Luckily Mitaka came in with Dr. Andor trailing after him. With their appearance, the session started promptly despite Kaydel’s tardiness.

To start them off Mitaka rambled for a good ten minutes about his conversation with his doctor. Both were still at odds about switching anti-depressants, but apparently Mitaka tried his best to stand his ground. The term ‘erectile disfunction’ was thrown around more than anyone felt comfortable, only for the poor kid to conclude he was able to keep his medication until he needed a refill.

Not really a win for Mitaka, but progress.

Thankfully Ben’s topic of discussion was the furthest from speaking about anti-depressant side effects, but on how his mother was insisting on planning her own funeral.

“I told her the most she could do was pick the church,” Ben said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just think its… _morbid_ for her to making all these plans for her own funeral like she is going to actually be attending it.”

“Well, technically she is,” Mitaka interjected, “Don’t you want to get her final wishes right?”

Ben’s lips pinched together, his eyes screwing shut. “Yes…but she speaks so candidly about it.”

Dr. Andor nodded in understanding, listening intently to Ben as he wrote shorthanded notes on his legal pad. “Maybe…this is her way of coping. Knowing and feeling you are dying is an experience not many know how to process—I wouldn’t expect your mother to understand even though it is happening to her. The best thing is to find peace over the matter of death. Maybe this is her way of finding peace.”

Ben blinked, his eyes watering for a moment. He sat up, rubbing his hands on his jean clad thighs. “Or maybe she is getting her last bit of her control freak out before she’s dead.”

Everyone in the circle shifted, knowing better than to contradict Ben when he was in one of his moods.

“Rey,” Dr. Andor brought his focus to her with a small welcoming smile, “Did you do the homework I gave you?”

“Uh,” she thought of her new morning runs and how they had little effect on her routine, “sort of.”

“Sort of?” His pen was poised at the ready, listening.

“I started morning runs and I like them enough,” she admitted, “but it doesn’t do much to break up the rest of my day.”

Dr. Andor hummed as the other two men in the circle shared a look of comradery across her.

“I feel like maybe I shouldn’t do it anymore since it doesn’t do what you asked—”

“You like the running, right?” Dr. Andor asked calmly, his eyes welcoming and warm. There wasn’t a hesitancy or hidden agenda behind the therapist’s words, simply wanting to confirm what he heard.

“Yes…” Rey tucked a loose hair behind her ear, face the man straight on.

“Then why should you not do it anymore?”

The question struck a chord, Rey only capable of blinking dumbly back.

Dr. Andor set aside his legal pad, shifting to edge of his seat. “Rey, you like something new in your routine; if you like it, you should keep it. Especially since it can cause more good than harm.” Quiet excite rose in him as he said the words. His hands clasped together on his knees, as though restraining himself from going into jubilant lecture on the subject. “Its okay to do things that don’t necessarily have an immediate benefit or reason to be done. It’s good that you are working out, but if you are doing it because you like it and enjoy it, then that’s reason enough.”

She squirmed in her seat and fiddled with her glasses, pushing them up further on her nose. “So…it’s okay I didn’t really complete my homework?”

Ben snorted, the noise muffled behind his hand.

“The homework is just a goal, Rey,” the therapist explained. “We don’t always achieve them—”

“Like never,” Mitaka interjected.

“But it is all about the—”

“Progress,” Mitaka and Ben droned in unison, causing Dr. Andor to stumble over the phrase.

“Ah, yes,” he nodded to the two younger men, “the progress. Baby steps can make all the difference.”

“I…see,” Rey replied, tapping her fingers idly on her knee. “So even if I didn’t…you know…do it right, it’s still right?”

Dr. Andor nodded with a smile. “I think you’re starting to get it.”

Ben rolled his eyes at the comment.

“Making small changes to your routine is a start and you should be proud of it—”

“But don’t let it get to your head,” Ben interjected, “Because if you do, you’ll just backslide into old habits.”

“Exactly,” Dr. Andor said with approval shinning in his eyes. “How about you focus on adding something else to your routine. Doesn’t have to be anything major, but something else to add.”

Rey took note of the suggestion, Dr. Andor already moving on to the others with their little ‘assignments’. However she noticed when he took a pause, glancing down at his watch.

“So no Kaydel today?” he murmured.

“Oh, she’s at—” Ben swiftly kicked Mitaka’s chair, the kid falling silent.

Dr. Andor looked up from his legal pad, quirking an eyebrow at the two men. “Anything you’d like to share?”

“Nothing,” Ben supplied, glancing over at Rey. “We haven’t seen her. Something probably came up. She’ll call or email or something,” he explained nonchalantly.

While eyeing him suspiciously, Dr. Andor didn’t press it. “Alright, well that concludes today’s session. Please feel free to call me, email me if anything comes up or if you need someone to talk to…”

Rey could not help but wonder why the guys were tight lip about Kaydel’s whereabouts, suddenly concerned for the girl.

Luckily her curiosity was quelled when Ben walked with her to the train, Mitaka tagging along at a slower pace.

“She’s at home,” Ben answered as they climbed the stairs, “she called Mitaka and I this morning. She’s not doing well—not taking anything, but she doesn’t want to be left alone.”

“So what does that mean for us?” Rey asked, trying to keep up with his long strides.

“We’re going to catch the train to her place. She lives off Marina Heights,” he explained as they stopped by the platform. “Just to check in on her.”

“All of us?” Rey gapped. “I barely even know her—”

“She’ll appreciate the gesture,” Mitaka assured her.

Rey highly doubted that.

 

* * *

 

Oddly enough, Kaydel _did_ appreciate the gesture.

“I’ll make tea for everyone!” she called out, rushing to her kitchen to get the kettle on the stove.

“How are you Kaydel?” Mitaka asked, taking a seat at the small kitchen table.

“I read the most interesting article on…”

Rey quickly learned Kaydel talked about absolute shit and gibberish to avoid talking about what is truly bothering her. It takes some well probed questions from the guys and listening about the article she read about— an all-natural skincare routine that involved more mud-masks than Rey would deem necessary— until the sun-beam woman caveed.

“I can’t go anywhere without thinking about how she is not here,” she said between hiccups, Mitaka holding her awkwardly. She kind of sprung the hug on him out of nowhere. Excitement and pain gleamed in the kid’s eyes. He probably had never been held that close by a woman before. “I mean I know the anniversary shouldn’t be getting to me like this—it’s been two years.”

For a moment Rey wondered if grieving was a never ending process. It appeared that way for sunshine-and-summer Kaydel.

“I should have gone to the session, but just couldn’t.”

“It’s just good you are talking to someone,” Ben said, neither comfortingly or with malice. Just a statement. “Better talk to someone than no one.”

The young woman nodded, lips pursed and tear stained. “You’re right.” A ragged breath exhaled out of her. “I’ll go get the tea.” She detached herself from Mitaka and marched to the stove, leaving the kid to watch her go longingly.

Rey kicked his leg. “Dude, you cannot be less subtle.”

A berry-red flush brightened Mitaka’s pale cheeks.

“I’m trying,” he muttered, squirming in his seat.

Politely, the three stayed for tea. It was some lavender and lemon concoction; Rey drank it while holding her breath as best she could. Ben didn’t even take a sip, dumping it into the potted plant in the center of the table when Kaydel wasn’t looking. The only person who begged for seconds was Mitaka, even going as far as asking for the recipe.

The boy had it bad for the young woman, Rey pitying him.

Once the tea was gone and Kaydel was indeed ‘okay’, the three left, but not before Kaydel could squish them into a group hug. Squirming out of her clutches, Ben tapped away on his phone, getting an Uber to share.

As Rey stepped out of the hall to join Ben and Mitaka, a hand caught her arm. Kaydel smiled, pulling Rey back over. “Thank you so much for coming,” Rey shifted uncomfortably in the iron grip. “You don’t seem like a people person.”

“I’m not.”

“So that means it took a lot for you to come—” More like Rey was held hostage by her unofficial therapy buddies, but she forced a smile nonetheless. For Kaydel’s sake. “—and I appreciate it.” She narrowed her eyes conspiratorially, squeezing Rey’s arm. “I think under that prickly exterior, you have are softy—like Ben.” She nodded to man.

He stood down the hall, frowning at his phone, looking imposing with his brown leather jacket and dark clothing.

“He acts like he could kill, but honestly he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He has a good heart, it’s just his words and emotions don’t always match up all the time.”

Rey quirked an eyebrow. “Okay…”

“All I’m saying is…you don’t have to pretend with us,” Kaydel insisted, letting go of Rey’s arm. “We are all a little broken in our group.”

“I’m not broken.” Her words did not match the crack in her voice.

Being broken meant something was ‘wrong’ with her. She knew she wasn’t perfect—no one was perfect thank you very much Hannah Montana—but she wasn’t broken. Being broken meant she lost a bit of herself. Just because her grandfather died didn’t mean she lost herself.

That’d be pathetic.

And Rey tried her best to not be pathetic.

Forcing another smile, she mutter a ‘goodbye’ and rushed to join the guys down the hall.

 

* * *

 

“What are you doing to our wall?”

Looking up the chalk paint in her hand, Rey saw Finn standing in the living room, jaw slacked. His backpack dropped with a thud, a panic shinning in his eyes.

“Making a chalkboard wall.”

“We rent.”

“I’ll paint it white again eventually,” she assured him, adding another stroke to the black wall.

“What happened to the bookshelf that was right there?” He motioned to the wall, his neck craning around as though she hid the bookshelf in the apartment.

“I broke it down.”

“What? Why?”

“It only held one row of books, everything else was pictures and little thingamabobs.” She hopped off the kitchen chair she stood on. With one eye closed, she scrutinized her work. She then switched eyes, nodding to herself. Not bad job considering she came up with the idea less than two hours ago.

“So what did you do with everything?” Finn demanded. “Some of that stuff was mine.”

“I took what was mine and put it in my room,” she closed the paint can, “took what was yours and put it in your room. It’s not rocket science, Finn.”

He shook his head, picking back up his backpack. “Why the chalkboard wall?”

“I’m making a list,” she said simply, heading to the hall closet. She emerged a second later with a box fan, positioning it in front of the wall. “My therapist says I need a hobby.”

“You’re still going to therapy?” Finn did not even bother to hide the glee in his voice. “I thought you said it was—and I quote— ‘shitty people complaining about their shit’.”

“It is,” Rey answered, plugging in the fan. “But it is not completely awful and I get free food.”

Finn raised an eyebrow, his head tilting in an odd shake and nod. “Okay…and…and are you actually listening to this therapist? Taking his advice?”

“Yes and no—hence my list,” she waved to the wall, “I’m going to find a hobby.”

Her roommate looked less than impressed. “Rey…you want to find a hobby?”

“Yes,” she declared not understanding the problem.

“You know finding a hobby is more than making a of list of things to do…you have to _like_ it. And you know, be good at it?”

“Well, I don’t know what I like,” she argued.

“So you’re just going to try anything and everything that comes to mind?” he asked, disbelief evident in his tone.

“Yeah!” She narrowed her eyes on him, her arms crossed over her chest. “What the fuck is wrong with that?”

His mouth opened and closed as words struggled to come out. A small huff left him as he found himself rendered silent.

“I guess…nothing is wrong with that?” He rubbed his forehead. “I just don’t want you to get disappointed, or waste your time on things you are going to fuck up. I…I don’t understand why you don’t just go back to your old routine. You _liked_ it,” he said, an edge of defeat in him.

Rey blinked back, Finn’s words sinking in.

Her old routine involved working in a bookstore, owned by her grandfather. She would check in on her grandfather and write for her publisher on whatever self-help book some posh reality personality wanted under their name. She’d cook her grandfather dinner, listen to him reminisce on the ‘old days’ while not understanding what the hell or who the hell he was talking about on most days. Her life revolved around her grandfather and making sure he was comfortable and his life was secure…

Like a shock of cold water, Rey realized she never liked that routine.

In fact, she fucking hated it.

And this was her opportunity to change it…if she could even accomplish such a task.

Swallowing air, she turned away from Finn, heading to her room. “Maybe I want a change in routine,” she said over her shoulder.

She closed the door behind her, her hand resting firmly on the doorknob. Taking a moment, she let go and shuffled the familiar path to her bed.

Debating, she stared at the rumpled grey covers.

She couldn’t remember the last time she washed her sheets.

With a heavy hand, she pulled off the duvet cover. Then she ripped off the loose sheet, followed by the fitted. The pieces laid in pile beside her feet, folded over and twisted like a snake skin.

She didn’t have another set, never one to follow the common sense rule of having multiple sets of sheets for laundry days or accidents.

Digging for her phone in her pocket, Rey flopped down on the bare full size bed. She tapped open her Amazon app, typing ‘full size bed sheets’.

She paused, before adding ‘light blue’. Maybe a pop of color could brighten the room.

Her phone buzzed, a text message lighting up her phone.

 

** Ben **

**If you don’t like your coffee tasting like buckets of sugar,**

**how do you like your coffee?**

** Ben **

**Because as one caffeine lover to another, we have to look out for each other.**

** Ben  **

**Letting you drink group therapy coffee would be a crime against my people.**

** Ben **

**And by my people, I mean caffeine addicts.**

**_ Rey _ **

**_You do know you could have typed that all in one message?_ **

**_Successive messages are excessive._ **

****

** Ben **

**Do you think I have this all planned?**

**No.**

**It’s like poetry, Rey.**

** Ben **

**I write what comes to mind.**

**__ **

**_ Rey _ **

**_An Americano._ **

**_With caramel and almond milk._ **

**_That’s how I like my coffee._ **

****

** Ben **

**I’ll have it saved then.**

**Consider me your personal coffee provider at therapy.**

 

A hesitant smile bloom on her lips at the message.

Her hand hovered to respond—Should she send an emoji? A witty reply back?— before closing the window.

She let the phone drop on to the mattress; she didn’t need to reply.

They hardly knew each other. He was only looking out for her best interests…

_Oh, fuck it._

Grabbing her phone, she typed and flicked away until she found the image she was looking for—the Lisa Simpson coffee meme. Rey pressed ‘send’ before she could second guess herself.

Less than a minute later, he sent back a laughing emoji.

 

** Ben **

**That’s me in a nutshell.**

 

 

**_ Rey _ **

**_Then I think we will get along just fine._ **

**_Like you said, we need to stick together._ **

**_Wouldn’t want to be stuck with a nimrod._ **

****

** Ben **

**I don’t know about that—you have some pretty lame wallow music…**

**_ Rey _ **

**_Excuse you!_ **

**_I have perfectly fine wallow music._ **

****

** Ben **

**Sure, keep telling yourself that.**

**_ Rey _ **

**_I do!_ **

** Ben **

**For your education, here is a playlist.**

 

Cautiously, she tapped the link he provided. The link brought her to the Spotify app, the playlist titled ‘Real Wallow Music Because You Don’t Know Shit’.

She rolled her eyes, but pressed ‘play’ anyways, making sure her Bluetooth speaker was on. The opening of The Smiths “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” came through her speaker from the other side of the room. Her attempts to remain stubborn were futile as she found her head bobbing along with the strum of the guitar despite the pretentious and depressing lyrics.

Continuing with the melancholy of The Smiths, “Back to the Old House” followed after.

And then “Love Will Tear Us Apart” by Joy Division and “Pictures of You” by The Cure played, she no longer recognizing the songs as the sounds blended together.

Laying lazily off her bed, Rey came to the conclusion maybe Ben was right.

He _did_ have better wallow music.

Leaning her head back, she raised the volume on her phone, blasting the music. She didn’t care if the neighbors heard, or if Finn was annoyed with her selections.

It was just her and some sad, 80s music.

The rest of the world fell away…it was almost as though she didn't exist.

And all was alright for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I might make Ben's playlist for Rey and have it up on Spotify. And no offense to New Order--I just like some of the other bands mentioned more, hahah.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Love discussing the fic with readers :D


	3. painting, baking, & sharing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter!
> 
> Typos will be fixed later! 
> 
> Enjoy :D

* * *

 

 

Painting _should_ be easy.

It’s taught in preschool.

It shouldn’t be this fucking difficult.

Yet Rey had no idea how to navigate the paint aisle in the craft store. Acrylic, water paint, oil paint…there were so many different kinds and she just sort of wants to paint some flowers.

She wanders around, up and down the aisle. After about her third passing, she earned a suspicious glance from one of the sales floor stockers. As if she were some felon or threat.

Flustered, she took the first dinky paint set she laid her eyes on. It’s only twenty dollars and within her budget. She then goes and grabs watercolor paper because she recalled some artsy girl in college claiming watercolor paper was a basic standard for any artist.

She dropped the items on the counter and avoided eye contact with the kid ringing her up. She paid haistly, trying not think of her impending failure with paint.

Because she knew deep down, in the bottom of her soul, she was going to fuck this hobby up.

 

* * *

 

“It looks like a dick.”

Rey scowled at Ben. “It’s a _flower_.”

“It looks like a dick,” he repeated, pointing to her painting. “There is the head—”

“ _Okay_ ,” she practically screeched, folding up her painting and stuffing it back in her purse. “I get it—it looks like shit.”

Vigorously, she sipped her cranberry cocktail, her anger and embarrassment getting the best of her. It was Sunday, which meant Skeeball at the Cantina. Somehow Rey got roped into another outing, Mitaka _begging_ her to join after the session.

She agreed on the condition she’d be able to sit and do nothing, but eat and drink.

He cheered far too loudly at the compromise.

“It doesn’t look like shit, it looks like a dick,” Ben said, dipping his fries in ranch. “If you told me ‘hey, Ben here is my painting of a dick,’ I would have said ‘it looks awesome.” He shrugged. “But you didn’t; you said it was a flower—don’t know which flower—”

“A carnation.”

He paused, a half snort huffing through him. “Yeah…that doesn’t look like a carnation. I wouldn’t go showing that around.”

A loud, tired, and disgusted groan emerged from Rey. Dramatically, she dropped her head on the table, her wrist barely pillowing her temple.

“I need a hobby,” she mumbled into her sleeve.

Ben didn’t respond, choosing to continue eating.

“What do people even _do_ with their lives?” she said, her lips twisting and frowning in thought. “Like how do hikers become hikers? Or I don’t know…scrapbooking—how does someone become a scrapbooker?” Sitting up, she dropped her chin into her palm. “I just don’t understand how someone picks up a hobby.”

“I think you are over thinking it,” he said before taking a sip of his lemonade. “Most people I know don’t actively look for a hobby, it just naturally happens.”

“Well, I’m not most people.”

“I know you’re not,” he answered honestly. She looked away from his honey-brown gaze, finding herself getting a little flushed whenever he caught her eye from more than a few seconds. “If you really want to find one…I guess don’t push yourself? Let it just happen.”

“Says the man who claims his dog was his ‘hobby’,” Rey muttered, dragging the basket of fries over to her side.

“Hey,” he grunted, his eyes narrowed on her, “don’t talk shit on Kylo. He is the best dog in the universe.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she said, stuffing a handful of fries into her mouth.

Mitaka then came ambling over to the two, his sloppy grin full of excitement.

“I think…I think the bartender wants hook-up with me,” the kid announced to the two. Rey gapped at him, while Ben’s eyes widened.

Both Rey and Ben looked over to the woman mixing a drink—she must have been in her mid-twenties. She smiled kindly at everyone—Jessika, that was her name—and chatted lightly with Rey as she made her drink earlier that night. Her personable attitude and kind eyes made her easy for conversation, even the mundane and boring kind. She knew Ben well enough; they apparently had a childhood friend in common and she always gave their little therapy group a discount on drinks.

Overall, a nice gal.

And of course, confident-drunk Mitaka took this as a come-on.

Rey glanced back at Ben, who was still stunned by Mitaka’s proclamation. “Eh, I don’t think…”

“Just because a girl is nice to you doesn’t mean she likes you,” Ben said before Rey could let Mitaka down gently.

“What?” Mitaka’s attitude deflated at Ben’s words. His pride had been effectively wounded in an instant, the kid slumping in on himself.

Sighing, Ben pulled out the chair next to him. “Sit down, buddy.”

Mitaka shuffled over, plopping himself down in the chair. He leaned back looking over at Rey and Ben pathetically.

“Mitaka—just because a girl exhibits kindness towards you, does not mean she wants to hook-up. It just means she was being nice,” Ben explained slowly. “Like a normal, polite human being.”

“But lots of girls are not nice to me when I am nice to them,” Mitaka whined, blinking at them widely.

Rey felt her heart droop at his words. She sat up, looking the kid dead in the eye. “Yeah, well, girls can be bitches to nice guys.”

“Why?” he asked, genuinely confused.

Rey shrugged, “I guess because lots of guys play the ‘nice guy’ card—where they are nice to girl and expect something from her. A real nice guy doesn’t want anything in return. Be _that_ nice guy. Girls want that guy.”

Mitaka blinked, squinting at her.

She quirked an eyebrow, waiting for him to say whatever was stewing in his brain. When he didn’t say anything for a moment, she resumed sipping her drink—

“You’re a virgin aren’t you?”

–and choked. Cocktail surged through her nose, Rey slapping her hand over her mouth.

“ _Excuse me_?” she coughed out, snatching napkins from Ben’s proffered hand.

“Dude, you can’t say that—” Ben began reprimanding.

“I mean, I’m right aren’t I?” Mitaka insisted. “Because it sounds like you turned down a lot of assholes, and from what I can tell, assholes are the ones who get laid.”

Ben groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Someone needs to take away your Netflix and Amazon accounts—it’s not like that in the real world, Mitaka.” His red ears peeked between the locks of his hair, Ben grumbling indiscernibly towards the table top. Liftin his head, he steepled his hands under his chin, meeting Mitaka’s haze eyes sternly. “Decent people do get laid, and are in committed relationships—”

“Do _you_ get laid?” Mitaka asked, as though already knowing the answer.

Abruptly, Ben stood up. “Fuck you. I’m getting more food.”

Sitting still, Mitaka and Rey watched Ben go to the counter to order food—probably more fries; he ate them like they were going out of style.

“I don’t think you should have said that,” Rey told him out of the corner of her mouth. Blindly her mouth found her straw, sipping her drink at snails pace. Her eyes were still on Ben, focused on how the muscles on his back bunch with the tension of anger.

It was sort of fascinating to witness that tension gradually dissipate from him the longer he waited for food.

Almost like viewing a creation of art…

…well if someone was into that sort of thing.

“He has intimacy issues,” the young man across from her announced, “and commitment issues.” He paused for a moment before shaking his head. “He’s just got issues.”

“I could surmise that much,” Rey replied dryly. “Maybe sex is a sensitive topic for him?”

“It’s not,” he answered confidently, “it’s the whole other thing that can come with sex—a meaningful relationship.”

Over her drink, she watched the eighteen year old carefully. Mitaka was a confident babbler when drunk; it only took two encounters to conclude this assessment. Rey just wasn’t too sure if he was a _truthful_ babbler. “And you know this…?”

Mitaka shrugged, lips pursed, kissing his teeth. “I’ve been in group therapy off and on with him for three years…you learn a lot about a person in therapy.” His puppy dog eyes sobered up, he swallowing air. “I mean I get it—when your parents were kind of crappy at the relationship thing _and_ the parent thing, it makes one want to avoid it at all costs. They kind of fucked him up.”

“I…I didn’t know that…” Rey’s eyes widened, considering Mitaka’s words. She had a strong inkling she _wasn’t_ supposed to know that about Ben.

Wasn’t there a whole ‘what happens in therapy, stays in therapy’ rule? She recalled signing a confidentiality form at some point the last couple of weeks.

Before Rey could get in another word, a to-go bag of fries was dropped on the table.

“You are going to eat _that_ ,” Ben placed a paper to-go cup beside the fries, “and drink that until you stop stay stupid shit.”

“Does that mean we are leaving?” Mitaka asked, sounding like a kicked puppy.

“What do _you_ think?”

The kid didn’t answer the rhetorical question, merely standing up and putting on his jacket.

While still evidently annoyed, Ben helped Mitaka, handing him the food and drink once the kid was zipped up for the cooling September air. Dutifully, Rey followed the two, waving goodbye to Jessika.

“Hope you feel better Mitty!” the woman called out as they walked out.

“‘ _Mitty’_?” Ben uttered once they were outside, a teasing grin on his lips.

“Better ‘Mitty’ than ‘Dopheld’,” he grumbled, sipping his water viciously.

“Don’t drink or eat too fast, you’ll throw up,” Rey warned, almost ready to rip the bag out of his hands with how fast he ate.

Taking her heed, Mitaka slowed down but walked ahead of the two. He beelined to the backseat of the car, Rey and Ben watching his with a hint of annoyance but mostly amusement.

“He needs to get more friends his own age,” Ben said with a shake of his head.

“Maybe _we_ need to get more friends our own age,” Rey countered.

“But then we wouldn’t be able to hang out would we?” he said sagely, parting ways with her to head to the driver’s side.

Personally, Rey liked to believe maybe she and Ben would eventually meet. Afterall, their families were friends at one point. However, she was keenly aware it took both of them losing nearly everyone in their lives for their paths to converge.

Biting her lips together, Rey ignored his truthful statement and climbed into car.

 

* * *

 

“You sure you can get in just fine?” Ben asked again, his head peeking out the car window.

“Yes,” Mitaka groaned petulantly, “I am sober enough to go into the house.”

“Just making sure,” he insisted, “don’t want you to trip over yourself…or vomit,” he added with a cringe.

“I’m fine! I’ll see you on Tuesday.” Mitaka waved lazily at them, already retreating into the townhouse.

Vigilantly, Ben kept the car in park until he saw Mitaka’s bedroom light turn on. Satisfied, he drove away from the curb, through the sleepy neighborhood, and back to the main intersection. With one hand he turned the radio on, the local alternative station playing through the speakers.

From the passenger seat, Rey’s eyes darted over to him periodically as their silence stretched. Logically, Mitaka should have been dropped off last. He lived closest to Ben, while Rey was practically on the other side of Takodana, her apartment embedded in the Old Town District. But they thought better to drop off their inhibited friend first, just so he could get to bed sooner rather than get car sick with all the driving.

“You remember how to get there?” she asked as he hummed along to Arctic Monkey’s latest hit under his breath.

“Yup,” he said with a pop. “Not too difficult to remember. My uncle lived in the same neighborhood when I was growing up.”

“Oh,” she nodded slowly, “cool.”

Another silence lapsed between the two.

Ben’s fingers thrummed on the steering wheel, waiting for a red light to turn green.

“I’m sorry—”

“What happened—”

Both of them shut up once they realized the other was speaking. His mouth opened and closed pathetically as he struggled to decipher if she wanted to go first or she wanted _him_ to go first, all while keeping his eyes on the road.

“You can go first,” Rey decided for the both of them, “go ahead. I don’t mind.”

A huff came through his nose, the red light finally turning green. “I’m sorry about Mitaka tonight—calling you a virgin and everything. I sometimes forget under all that puppy dog and lonesome kid thing he has going on, he’s still a stupid eighteen year old boy,” he shook his head, another huff leaving him. “A boy who says stupid stuff and does _not_ know how to talk to women.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning stark white.

Then it was released with a few seconds, Ben attempting to look far more relaxed than he was moments ago.

Propping her arm on the door armrest, Rey shrugged with a wince. “It’s fine,” her lips quirked to side, debating if she wanted to be honest. She’d been pretty honest with his thus far in their friendship. “If it’s any consolation, he was right.”

“What?”

“I am a virgin,” she said with an eyeroll.

“ _Oh_.”

She could hear _everything_ in his tone.

The disbelief, followed by the pity, then the second-hand embarrassment. Not to mention Ben’s face happened to be a window to his soul, all his emotions and reactions on genuine display for the world to see.

Rey tried her best to not sink into her seat.

Instead she hoped a osmosis situation would happen where she’d become one with her seat and completely disappear. That was truly the better option.

“It’s not a big deal,” she confessed, “I’ve never really was into the whole sex thing or whatnot,” she said, stuttering over her words.

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Ben assured her, “I am the last person who’d judge you.”

“Because you have intimacy issues?” Rey blurted out before she could stop herself.

Damn Mitaka for putting that thought in her brain.

“ _Excuse me_?” he blinked dumbly, his eyes wide. “I—I _do not_ have intimacy issues! Who the hell told you that?”

She blanched.

“No one,” she uttered, sinking into her seat. So much for not acting pathetic.

Swallowing, she shrugged.

And then shrugged again.

His eyebrows rose at the display.

Damnit—she was acting weird, because she felt completely _weird_ having this conversation. Because yeah, they talked about their ‘grief’ and their ‘issues’ in therapy with everyone else. Like everyone knew way too much about Mitaka’s overbearing and controlling aunt, and way too much about Kaydel’s affinity towards those moon stone things and medicinal herbal tea. But she absolutely did not need to know about Ben’s sex life.

Hell, she was pretty sure he never even mentioned relationships, at least not like Kaydel or Mitaka did. Not that Mitaka had been in relationships; he mostly complained about his _lack of_ romance.

“It’s not like you’re a thirty year old virgin or something,” she said to fill the ever growing silence.

Unfortunately, the comment made Ben squirm.

Rey’s eyes blew wide.

“Oh my god,” she winced at her own stupidity, “ _are you_?”

His frown deepened, dragging his pretty, blissfully youthful-despite-age-face, down along with it.

“Not that there is anything wrong with that. I’m a virgin, you’re a virgin! It’s like we’re twins! Plenty of people are abstinent these days—its like the sexless revolution!”

“ _I am not a virgin_!” he bellowed, a vein on his neck bulging from sheer frustaion. “God damnit, can you please stop talking for two seconds!”

Rey’s mouth snapped shut, she nodding furiously in agreement. Her panicked rambling got the best of her at the most inopportune times. Like while she was sitting in a car with Ben, knowing she wouldn’t be getting back into her apartment for another twenty to thirty minutes due to the unrelenting Takodana night life.

“I don’t…” Ben inhaled deeply, his hands adjusting and readjusting on the steering wheel. “I don’t know where you heard I had intimacy issues, but I don’t,” he forced out, his words clunky and awkward as they tumbled from his mouth.

Rey knew then and there, Ben Solo was a shit liar.

“Wow,” she exhaled, “never uh,” she waved to all of him, “do _that_ again.”

“Do what?”

“Lie.”

His shoulders tensed, and lips curled in tightly. She could see him biting hard on the inside of his right cheek.

“I don’t have—”

“Bubbubu!” She held a hand to him. “I told you, don’t lie!”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, reminding Rey of bull about to run head first into an attack.

“I…may…have…” he licked his lips, turning on his blinker much harder than necessary, “ _some_ …intimacy issues,” he mumbled off towards the end, Rey barely catching his confession.

“ _Ah_ ,” was all she uttered.

“I…I never really been in relationship,” he admitted quietly, “I’ve always been career focused, and I’m an awkward person—”

“I don’t think you’re an awkward person,” she interjected defensively.

“That’s because _you’re_ an awkward person, Rey.”

She didn’t have a comeback to _that_.

“And I just never found the time because work came before everything else. Then my mom got cancer, my dad died, then my uncle died within the span of a year.” He paused, his lips quirking to the side. “I guess my mom getting diagnosed with cancer was the first wakeup call I didn’t listen to. My dad and uncle’s deaths the other alarms where it got to the point I realized I didn’t really know either of them because I shoved them away. So it’s not really an intimacy ‘sex’ thing, its in general relationship thing.”

Using his left hand, he shoved the hair out of his face. He didn’t bother to look her way during his little speech, just keeping his honey-brown eyes on the road.

“I can see how having a poor relationship with your family could cause that,” she said, hoping to sound reassuring.

Ben didn’t respond.

_Well, then._

The lights of downtown streaming together like far off galaxies. With the tips of her fingers, she tried to tap the lights shining the window before they passed by. The heat of her fingers left a mark on the cool glass, only to fade within seconds.

“You have intimacy issues too,” he said simply, pulling her back into the assumed dead conversation.

Her head lull back to face him. She pushed her glasses higher on her nose, gaze sharp at such an accusation. “Do I now?”

He nodded once, then twice, his eyes peeking at her of a fleeting moment.

“Oh _yeah_ ,” he said with obtuse confidence. “Isolation. Distrust. Using humor—crass humor, I should mention—to deflect.”

“You’re the same,” she reminded him, arms crossed over her chest.

“I know.” His sorrowful awareness on the connection was not lost in his voice. “Takes one to know one.”

“I guess we are just two peas in a pod,” Rey replied cheekily.

“Yup, forever alone due to our own self-imposed and crippling loneliness,” he said monotonously, “at least we’re together in this.”

Rey hummed in agreement, a small smile forming on her lips—

Until a startling thought popped into the forefront of her mind.

She and Ben both had intimacy issues and they both were in the process of grieving. They were both in the same therapy group. They were tentative friends. He brought her coffee and laughed at her jokes. He was handsome in that average yet completely unique kind of way. The kind of way John Greene would describe one of his heroes or heroines, but not have someone who looked like such a description play the part in the subsequent film.

Fuck. She in some poor imitation of a John Greene book. Except they didn’t have cancer and they weren’t in some mythical all-encompassing love for the ages.

They were just some idiots in shitty situations.

She needed to retcon this now before it got anywhere, because she wasn’t too sure she’d survive it.

Clearing her throat, she sat up. Dropping her hands on her lap, she turned to Ben with forced a grin.

His eyes stuttered at the sight, focusing more intently on the road than her. Luckily they were reaching her street, only sitting together, in silence until he parked the car outside her apartment.

All she needed to do was let him down slowly…at least that’s what Finn always said he did when he broke the news he wasn’t interested.

“You…you know, this,” she motioned between them, “this isn’t going to be a thing.”

His eyebrows furrowed, rolling to a stop at the curb. “Isn’t going to be a _what_ thing?”

“A _thing-thing_ ,” she said as though it were obvious.

Honestly, it should have been.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Rey.”

Shit, did she have to spell it out for him?

“This,” she waved in the space between them again, Ben still confused, “the me and you. It’s not going to be a thing. I know lots of films and books make it seem like two people who are in shitty situations get together because of some similar traumas, but I am telling you right now,” she laid a hand on his shoulder, staring him dead in the eye. “This is not going to _ever_ happen.”

Ben blinked.

Mirth flooded his honey-brown eyes.

“You think—” his mouth opened and closed, before a bubble of chuckles escaped him. “You think—you think, I thought—How did you—”

“What?” she demanded. “I don’t understand what you are saying—”

“You think I want this,” he motioned the same way she did earlier, _mocking_ her, “to be a _thing_?”

She rolled her eyes. “No—I’m just letting you know it can’t.”

“No, no, no,” Ben shook his head, laughter peeling from him in helpings, “No, no—this is never going to be a thing.”

“That’s quite a lot of no’s,” she remarked lowly, not amused by his laughter. Not amused at all, despite it sounding like someone gaining life into their lungs again, which was quite a beautiful revelation in all objectivity.

“I mean, it’s not like you aren’t attractive— _you are_ ,” he assured her before wheezing into another bout of boyish giggles. “You’re a very pretty girl—my mother would probably say we’d have beautiful children together,” he heaved a breath, biting a smile down. “But Rey, you are a _train wreck_.”

“Oh, excuse you!” she cried out, mouth dropping. “You are a complete and utter mess! You act like you have your shit together but you don’t. You have a shit ton of panic in those honey-brown eyes!”

He flinched back, a smile fighting against his reactive frown. “Honey-brown eyes?”

A flush coursed up her neck, Rey furiously trying to find something clever to say. All she could come up with was, “Whatever, Mr. Weird-Eye Color,” she huffed, “It’s a really weird eye color! Are they hazel, are they brown? Your genetics must be all whacked up.”

“Okay…” Ben trailed off, making his best effort to hold back his chuckles. “So…apparently we are at an agreement. Nothing shall happen, even thought it was the _farthest_ thing from my mind.”

“Glad we are on the same page,” Rey declared.

To seal the deal, she held her fist out to him.

Stunned for a moment, Ben glanced down at her then at her hand.

Of course, he doesn’t fucking know how to fist bump.

“Here,” she reached over and grabbed his hand. Clumsily she gathered all she could of his hand and formed it into a fist. Lifting her own hand, she bumped their fists together. “There. We are in official agreement. We fist bumped.”

“Yes,” Ben stated dryly, “the most binding legal form in existence.”

“Absol—” _Right_. Ben used to be an attorney. He was mocking her, apparently a favorite past time of his. “You are a shithead. I just thought you should know.”

He smirked. “Oh, I know.” Pressing a button on his door, he unlocked the car. “See you Tuesday, Miss Train-Wreck Rey.”

“Tuesday we shall see,” she replied coyly, thought it came off more forced than anything.

Understandably, Ben cringed. “Yeah, don’t ever say goodbye like that again.”

“Agreed,” she said, climbing out of the car, gathering her purse on her shoulder. “It felt wrong the moment it happened.”

 

* * *

 

_Baking_

She could _totally_ bake.

When she was fifteen, her girls football team had a bake sale for new uniforms. She was assigned to mix the batter and add the eggs and whatnot.

It wasn’t like it was rocket science.

So when she miraculously went into the bookshop on Tuesday morning, she plucked one of the cooking books from the shelves.

“You need to buy it,” Finn reminded her as she perused the thick and lengthy recipe book.

“I technically own the place,” she said, bookmarking a brownie recipe, “I think I might be above buying a book in my own store.”

“A store you haven’t stepped foot in for almost two months.” Finn’s annoyance was evident, standing before her like a scolding parent. “And the first thing you do, instead of checking the sales or how the place is even still standing, you read?”

“It’s my therapy homework,” she insisted, closing the book. “I thought you wanted me to get,” she stuffed the book under her arm, putting her two fingers up, “‘better’.”

Finn gaped at her, astonished by the display. With a warry hand, he pushed her hand down. “You did _not_ just air quote me?”

“I did,” she affirmed, chin held up defiantly.

“Who are you and what have you done with Rey? You hate air quotes—you say they are for people who can’t read sarcasm.”

She threw her hands up, at a loss for words.

He wasn’t wrong. Air quotes are stupid…but she found herself doing it anyway.

She blamed Ben and his stupid over excessive use of air quotes.

“I need to go home and bake.” She gathered her things and marched out the door, ignoring Finn’s calls for her to come back.

 

* * *

 

“Brownies?” Mitaka picked up one and sniffed it. “I guess I’ll eat one. What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing,” Rey answered, setting the tray on the table. There was a fruit tray and bagels sitting out on the snack table. However, there weren’t any spreads for the bagels, which meant they’d have to eat them plain.

Rey wondered if the snack provided realized no one ate bagels without some type of spread or toasting.

“Just decided to try a new hobby.”

“Yeah, it’s a bummer painting didn’t work out,” the kid said apologetically. “I’m sure with practice you’ll become better.”

“Not going to happen.” She patted his arm condescendingly, forcing a smile for him. “Painting is just not for me.”

“But to become better at something, you need to practice—”

“Who brought the brownies?”

The two looked over to the door to see Ben, his jacket dripping with rain droplets. In his hand, a to-go tray of coffee was held under pat of his coat.

“I did,” Rey announced proudly, going over to grab her coffee. He handed her the left one, the scrawl of ‘A, C’ on the side. Nice to know he finally got her order right.

“Why?” Ben asked, shaking off his jacket with one arm. For once in his life, Ben wasn’t wearing a completely black ensemble. Instead he wore dark wash denim jeans and a navy blue sweater. An odd, but nice change from the black and brown he often wore. “We always have snack here.”

“Because my new hobby is baking, and I thought it would be nice to bring something I made,” she explained, removing the stopper from her lid.

Taking a big sip, she sighed once the warm liquid hit her tongue. Coffee in the evening had a nonsensible appeal. There wasn’t a reason or need to drink it, but it brought new life to her.

Or maybe that was the caffeine talking. She wasn’t too sure.

By the table, Ben picked up a brownie and sniffed it cautiously. He didn’t bite it, but simply held it.

“What is with you two and sniffing food?” She grumbled, grabbing a brownie as well. “It’s a fucking brownie. They kind of have a general taste.”

Ben held the brownie a safe distance away from himself. “Have you tasted them yet?”

 _Fuck_.

Rocking on the balls of her feet, she shrugged a little helplessly. “I…I thought we could all try them together—”

“Oh fuck no,” Ben muttered, dropping the brownie back on the plate. “Knowing you, it probably doesn’t taste good because you rushed it thinking you knew how to do it without really trying.”

She scowled at him, realizing his assumption might very well be true. Because she was a wuss who wouldn’t taste-test her own brownies because deep down she knew she’d fail at this too.

But she hated it when Ben was smug _and_ right.

Without missing a beat or tearing her gaze from him, Rey stuffed the entire brownie square into her mouth. And chewed and chewed, until she realized—quiet startling—the inside never baked properly.

Across from her, Mitaka and Ben watched her with mild disgust as she attempted to chew and effectively swallow the less than ready brownie.

After a few seconds, Ben apparently had enough. He grabbed a stack of napkins and directed her to the nearest trash can. Snatching the wad, she spat the brownie out. Taking another napkin from Ben, she wiped the napkin on her tongue, getting any excess off.

When Ben opened his mouth to question, she held her hand up to stop him.

“It wasn’t fully baked—I don’t want to get salmonella poisoning,” she explained, wiping her tongue again.

“And you wanted us to eat that?”

Without bothering to look at him, Rey flipped Ben off.

His chuckles filled the room, Rey ignoring how genuine he sounded despite it being at her expense.

 

* * *

 

 “You want us to _what_?” Rey uttered, pen poised to write.

While any other person would have been bothered by Rey’s constant questions, Dr. Andor took it with stride.

“On three different pieces of paper, I want all you to write three different fears or thoughts you may have about yourself. You’ll then fold up the paper and drop it in the hat,” he waved the baseball cap in the air, “You’ll then pull one out and read it aloud to everyone.”

“But doesn’t that spread negativity?” Kaydel asked, also not understanding the full purpose of the exercise.

“You’ll understand once we finish, let’s just get through the first part, okay?” he asked the group, earning a few murmurs of agreement.

Tearing off three strips of paper from her journal, Rey paused at what to write.

Dr. Andor probably wanted them to be honest…and it wasn’t as though anyone would know it was her who wrote on the slip of paper. They all had those Moleskin journals, Dr. Andor giving them one each when they first joined, so their paper was all the same.

Deciding to be…herself, Rey wrote her three down—

_Not being able to giving anything back to this world._

_Not finding where I belong and waiting for nothing._

_Being alone._

Part of her wanted to too the last one. It was short and completely vague, yet when she was about to crumple it the dreaded hat was passed to her. Without second thoughts or opportunities, she tossed the three slips in.

Once the hat went around the circle, Dr. Andor held the hat in front of Mitaka. “Go ahead, now pick three and read them.”

The eighteen year old squirmed, sharing a shy smile with the rest of the group. Fumbling with the papers, he nearly ripped the first one while opening it. “Uh, ‘that I’d never find love again’— _oh_.”

A few eyes darted to Kaydel, who blinked back at them, flinching when she realized _why_ they were looking at her. “Oh, no that’s not me. I didn’t write that one.”

Awkward and hesitant glances were shared, until Dr. Andor held his hand up. “That one was mine,” he said quietly, “Keep going Mitaka.”

The kid nodded, picking up the next one, “‘Never being able to know what love is truly like.’”

Ben coughed, waving a hand. “Me,” he grunted, eyes darting to Dr. Andor, “Is this part really necessary?”

“Yes,” Dr. Andor answered with quiet sternness, “Keep going.”

“Um, ‘to never find inner peace’.”

“Oh, me,” Kaydel announced, smiling politely at the four.

Everyone once again avoided eye contact.

Thus the cycle began, everyone pulling out their three and reading them, claiming what was theirs despite the flame of embarrassment on their cheeks. Kaydel sped through hers, she having two of Mitaka’s ( ‘seeing my parents continue to suffer’ and ‘never leaving home’) and one of Rey’s, the ‘not being able to give anything back into this world’. She smiled and cooed at the them, sharing how she felt _closer_ with sharing their fears. Any other person Rey would have glared at, but with Kaydel…she seemed genuine with her words.

Rey, unfortunately was next after Kaydel. She picked up and opened it like a band-aid.

In beautiful, elegant cursive the words, ‘being alone’ stared right back at her.

But she didn’t write this one…no. Someone _else_ did.

Someone else in the group apparently felt the same way she did.

“Remember, read them aloud,” Dr. Andor prompted, stunning Rey out of her stupor.

“Right, right,” she stuttered. Clearing her throat, she read—“ ‘being alone’.”

For a moment no one said anything, letting the words sink in—a thing they were all unconsciously doing after each paper was read.

Rey shouldn’t have been surprised when Ben’s raised his hand an inch.

“It’s…it’s mine,” he said with a swallow.

She nodded, folding it and picking up the next one. The same beautiful cursive—Ben’s cursive—looked back at her.

And she didn’t for the life of her want to read this one aloud.

But she did because she had to, it was the rules for their little activity. “‘To know everyone is gone because of me.’”

Ben raised his hand, not waiting for the group to chew on the words. His arms crossed over his chest and tucked into himself, the man effectively closed himself off from stares and perusing. She bet if he could vanish into thin air, he would.

Well, Rey was having none of it. Screw intimacy issues; he was getting this through his thick skull. “That’s not true,” she declared, “everyone isn’t gone because of you.”

“You don’t know the situation,” he muttered.

“Rey, remember, you are only supposed to—”

She barreled over Dr. Andor’s warning, turning to Ben. “I know _enough_ , and you can’t fucking control death.” His jaw twitched, arms tightening over his chest, but didn’t say a word. “If we can control death, then we’d be God and sorry Ben, you’re _no_ God. So don’t put that kind of pressure on yourself.”

Silence fell over the group, Ben restraining himself as he kept his gaze forward. Part of Rey wanted to shove him out of his seat

Awkwardly, Dr. Andor coughed into his sleeve, before smiling comfortingly at the group. “That…was both oddly encouraging and insulting at the same time.” His eyes glanced at the abnormally quiet group, before setting back on Rey, urging her to continue.

With a dejected huff, she opened the last paper.

“‘To not die a virgin’.” Rey crumpled the paper in one hand, letting it fall on her lap. Unamused, she looked at the only person who’d write such a confession. “ _Really_ , Mitaka?”

“It’s a genuine fear!”

Rey rolled her eyes. Leave it to the eighteen year old boy to have that be one of his biggest thoughts and fears.

Focus shifted to Ben, next in the circle.

He went through them in rapid fashion. “‘To never have success,’—That’s Kaydel.” He dropped the paper back on his lap, grabbed the other one, “‘All my work for nothing’—no brainer, Dr. Andor, and…” He opened the paper, his next words halting, caught in his throat.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, a tell of his when he struggled to find the right words. Scratching his jaw, he sighed tiredly. “‘Being alone.’”

“We’ve already heard that one,” Mitaka interjected, earning a swift slap on the arm from Kaydel.

“It mean someone _else_ wrote it,” she hissed to him.

“It’s mine,” Rey said with chin held high, eyes on Ben. Silently, she _dared_ him to make a comment.

“I figured,” he muttered, dropping the paper with the rest on his lap.

“ _Okay_ ,” Dr. Andor’s false cheerfulness did little to ease the situation. “My turn…” As he began to read off the last three, Rey’s eyes continued to drift to Ben—

His angry pout and stern brow.

The glare of distrust and loneliness in those honey-brown eyes.

She didn’t look away when his gaze caught hers, instead he did.

 

* * *

 

“Where are you heading?” Ben asked, his strides matching to catch up with her.

The session was a rough one, Dr. Andor going deeper into fears and how they were all within the same realm. She thought for a moment he’d do the cheesy thing and have them burn the damn strips of paper in trash fire. He didn’t, just crumpling them up and throwing them away.

By the time the session ended, Ben was back to his usual average grumpy self. The uncomfortable twitch of his jaw and massive moody demeanor had faded into only a ghost of what he’d been moments before.

She wasn’t surprised he was speaking freely and simply to her now, enough time passing for him to calm down.

“Home,” she said simply, answering his question. “Why?”

“Want to take a detour?”

She could not help but notice the hope in his request.

Biting her lip, she nodded with a sureness she hadn’t felt for some time.

The breeze of the train hit them on the platform, their train coming to a stop.

Ben gently guided her into the train car, a hand hesitantly resting on her shoulder. “It’s the same train route, you’ll just get off with me.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, taking the first seat she saw, Ben taking the spot to her right. “Do you not go home after the Tuesday night sessions?”

“No,” he answered with little explanation.

Rey should have came to that conclusion sooner, considering Ben lived on the other side of town. It made more sense for him to drive to the Takodana Wellness Center rather than take the train, yet she never questioned his route on Tuesdays. She never really had the thought or reason to do so until now.

The gentle sway and bumping shift of the train filled the silence between them, neither feeling the need to talk. They’d been forced to talk for hour and share their feelings, a break was needed.

She watched as her stop came and gone.

“It’s the next one,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “She lives on the edge of town, near Republic Square.”

Within a few minutes their stop came, Ben stepping off the train with Rey hot on his trail. He lead her back to the street, walking with familiarity, as though he’d taken this path for years. Taking a left, most of the subtle urban touches of the neighborhood faded away, revealing a series of older houses—specifically _old money_ houses—all lined up. Each had a iron or picket fences, the architecture of the each house different and unique in style. Nothing like the cookie-cutter suburban houses outlining the outskirts of Takodana.

“She should still be awake, she doesn’t sleep. Never really has,” Ben said as they walked through the street. After passing a few houses, he stopped in front of a large Victorian inspired gray house. Parked out front was his car—well his _Dad’s_ car as he liked to correct everyone—but his car, as though it had been sitting there all day. A warm glow of light shined through the downstairs bay window.

Fishing for his keys, Ben turned to her with a half-smile.  “My mom lives here, she doesn’t get many visitors and I usually come by after Tuesday sessions to check in with her, pick up my car, pick up my dog.” He fiddled with the keys in his hand. He shuffled from foot to foot, a nervous tremor in his hand. A subconscious scratch of his neck, ducking away from her only to meet her gaze again within one second.  “I thought…maybe you two would get along…” he nodded towards the door, his hair flopping in his face. He brushed it away, and brushed it away again…a nervous tick she never seemed to notice until he was standing less than two feet away from her. “You don’t…you don’t have to go meet her if you don’t want to, I mean I kind of held you hostage, not really telling you where we were going. You can wait by the car if you want—”

“I’d love to meet your mom,” Rey interrupted before he fell through a spiral of excuses and talked himself out of it. “I mean, I came all this way—and you weren’t holding me hostage. You said ‘a detour’ and well…I have the time.” A pathetic chuckle escaped her.

They both knew she’d just go back home and do her usual, bleak routine. A routine, however, getting less bleak the more time she spent with the group—not that she’d ever admit it to any of them.

Relief cast of his features, Ben turning back to unlock the front door. They entered the foyer, Ben taking off his coat and shoes. Realizing she should do the same, Rey followed suit, hanging her jacket and purse next to his.

Apparently, all their entrance was heard, the sound of slow footsteps coming deep within the house. “Ben,” a voice called out, “is that you?”

“Yeah, Mom,” he called back, “I brought along a friend.”

She stifled a giggle at how _young_ he sounded, as though he were a kid asking permission for a friend to come over for a playdate.

“Really?” the woman sounded stunned by the news, though not upset in the slightest.

Ben rolled his eyes, leading the way through the house. Going left, he led her into the dinning room, the kitchen connecting in the back. An open concept, not usually in older houses, though the relatively new appliances told Rey it must been renovated in recent years.

Sitting at the circular kitchen table, was an older woman, sipping her tea with a serene smile. A large beast of dog sat dutifully at her feet, only lifting his head to bark happily at Ben. He crouched down, giving his dog pets and kisses; an affection she'd never seen him display towards any other living thing. 

Dressed in warm sweatpants and sweater, his mother looked cozy. Comfortable despite the illness taking over her body, it hid her distress well. However, Rey caught sight of the subtle pain behind the older woman's gradual movements; a stutter in her arm as she lifted the cup to her lips, a heavy swallow of her tea. A blue knit cap rested snug on her head, and her reading glasses perch low on her nose.

Less than a second into meeting her gaze, Rey noticed the woman’s eyes—

A warm, honest, _honey-brown_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots to unpack!
> 
> We met Leia! She's important :)
> 
> Oh Mitaka. I love you, but you are dumb.
> 
> And bad snack time strikes again!
> 
> Ben and Rey being awkward is my jam if you cannot tell; that car conversation though.... XD
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers :D


	4. yarn, interns, & compliments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here is another chapter :D
> 
> Some times jumps occur, but nothing major. 
> 
> Will be replying to comments on previous chapter soon! I cherish and adore everything you all have to say :)
> 
> Typos will be fixed later.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Within two weeks, Rey tried a bit of everything.

Cycling class was cool until she struggled to keep up despite her morning runs. Not to mention she wasn’t one to have loud pep talks shouted at her while exercising. More of the loner type on that front.

Yoga calmed her a bit, but she nearly fell asleep— _twice_ —during one class. She liked the environment well enough, the stretching and movements actually working. She felt refreshed…she just didn’t think it was something she could do all the time, or do with her own time considering how little she knew on the subject.

Pottery…Rey unabashedly dragged Kaydel with her to that one. If she was going to try something like _pottery_ she’d rather bring someone with her who’d probably excel in it to not have all her time go to waste. She was also, admittedly, getting tired of doing all these activities alone. Failing alone, over and over, left an unfortunate bitter taste in her mouth.

Besides, she need someone to laugh at all the _Ghost_ references she’d inevitably make.

Surprisingly, Rey was _right_ about Kaydel.

The woman was a natural, making a pretty tea cup. Dainty, yellow with a perfectly curved handle.

Rey on the other hand…she made a wobbly bowl. A bowl big enough to hold _maybe_ less than a cup of cereal.

“It can be decorative!” Kaydel suggested.

Rey cringed at the sight of the bowl, one edge flat to the point it was a plate. “I think I will just stick it in the back of the cabinet.”

Her companion deflated at that news. “I think you should put it out on display. You tried and you gave a _good_ try.”

Rey didn’t argue on the matter, simply holding the bowl with vague interest.

She’d never tell Kaydel she put on the end table in her apartment and made it a key bowl.

 

* * *

 

“I still have ten more things on my list to try,” Rey explains to Leia one day, the two sitting in the kitchen together. Adult coloring books are laid out between them, the two coloring intricate mandolin designs with color pencils and marks. “Plenty more options to try once I fail.”

By their feet, Kylo sat at the ready to jump and follow whenever necessary. He was trained well, Ben undoubtedly taking the dog to all the necessary classes. If she recalled correctly, Kylo was a rescue. Found out in a farm in Tatoonie, the poor dog was barely a couple of months old and struggling to survive. Not many wanted him after the fostering process due to his skittish and defensive nature.

But not Ben.

Nope, Ben saw the dog with all his flaws, with the warnings of his ferocious nature, and adopted him.

“I think you are doing this whole coloring think alright,” Leia said, perusing the color options before her. Humming, she picked up a royal blue and resumed her coloring. “It’s not difficult. Some might say relaxing.”

Rey shrugged, earning a disapproving glance from Leia.

“I just think…it’s not a _real_ hobby,” she explained exasperatedly. “Anyone can color between the lines.”

“But not everyone can color outside of them,” Leia countered, “maybe you are thinking about this too literally.”

“You sound like your son.”

“Well, I did raise him for a couple of years.”

This was a relationship Rey did not expect to encounter. When she met Ben’s mother a few weeks back, she thought maybe it was a one and done deal. The woman would be dying soon, she probably wanted to be alone with her thoughts and make peace with which ever higher being she believed in. Not to mention, she was freaking Leia Organa Solo. The woman who’d been a prominent political figure in the eighties and nineties for her activism and legislation work.

Leia was a legend. Like the rest of her family. A key factor about his life Ben apparently told _no one_. Not even the support group. Dr. Andor probably knew, considering he spoke of Ben’s mother as though he knew her personally, but that was about it. Luckily, Rey had enough sense to not react like an idiot at the quiet revelation. She nodded along, muttering she _maybe_ heard the name. Not that she might have had short phase in middle school where she cut out a picture all the influential women she looked up to and put them on her bedroom wall, Leia Organa Solo amongst them (Rey didn’t have mother, and her grandfather never tried to make up for the fact, instead just being the best grandfather he could be. It was _perfectly natural_ to want find women to look up to, the school counselor at the time said so.)

All things considering, Leia definitely wouldn’t want to spend time with a twenty-three year old who was maybe _more_ than a little fucked up in the brain and emotions at the moment.

But, miraculously, she did.

At the end of her little visit with Ben, Leia gave Rey her number and insisted she stop by the next day to chat.

If Ben found the response from his mother weird, he didn’t comment on it.

When Rey question him about later in the car, he shrugged. “It means she likes you to some degree. My mom doesn’t like everyone, especially _now_ , so I’d take it in stride.”

So Rey listened for once in her life, and visited Leia again.

And then came over the next day, and then the next.

Before she knew it, Rey stopped by Leia’s house at least once a day. Usually after her morning runs she’d hurry home, get cleaned and dressed, grab her laptop bag and leave for Leia’s. Ben apparently stopped by his mother’s in the morning, before her, Kylo always there when Rey arrived.

Leia and Rey wouldn’t do much in the morning. Sometimes talking, sometimes sitting in silence. Occasionally Rey would write, needing to complete her word quota for the day and Leia would ask her to read it aloud.

This project wasn’t anything special, a self-help book some talk show host in three states over wanted to put out, willing to pay a large sum to have it ghost written. Naturally, the agency and publishers pointed towards Rey—she could complete the project in a timely fashion, and had done so in the past. She sent Rey all the tabs and bits she wanted in the book, and Rey did her research on the woman. She’d send out a rough draft to the woman at the end of the week.

It wasn’t riveting literature, though it gave Leia a good laugh. The woman cackled at some of the demands Rey’s clients would make, though it did not hide the looming question in her eyes.

“Why don’t you write books of your own?” Leia asked around Rey’s fifth visit. She was making the two of them grilled cheese as Leia sat the table, sipping tea.

“I don’t have a story to tell,” Rey answered easily, flipping over the sandwich on the pan. “I have been surrounded by books all my life, read every genre, even the less than appealing ones, and…” she shrugged, saving the document, “my story is nothing compared to those.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“It’s easier.” It wasn’t a lie; it was easier. She could write these self-help and ‘auto’-biographies in her sleep, absentmindedly, or even when intoxicated. And they’d still be ‘good,’ make revenue, and she’d have shiny new paycheck every few months.

“It’s easier to write for other’s stories than your own?” the older woman asked, a hint of incredulousness in her tone.

“Precisely.”

“That’s bullshit,” Leia place her tea back on the saucer, pulling herself to sit taller in the wooden chair. “You can write your own story. You have what? Fifteen books published under a dozen different names?” Rey squirmed at the correct observation. “You are just choosing not to.”

If any other person said what Leia did, Rey would have marched right out of the house and never looked back.

But it came from Leia.

A woman who witnessed and observed more than she let on.

A woman who raised the equally observant Ben Solo.

So Rey held her tongue and continued to make lunch.

That was until that afternoon, as she and Leia colored, did Rey find herself at odds with the woman.

“I want you to write my memoir,” Leia announced

“Excuse me?” Rey uttered, nearly dropping the mug in her hand. She’d been serving herself coffee from the pot, taking a break from coloring for a moment. “I thought I heard you say—”

“Yes,” Leia nodded, “Make my memoir. I know a guy in publishing. He’s been bothering me for years to write one, but I’m not much of writer.” She smiled mischievously, subconsciously patting Kylo’s head. The massive dog preened at the pets, he turning into putty at her touch. “But you can do it. You’d be honest and frank, just like me.”

“I couldn’t do you justice.”

“Eh,” Leia tsked, waving her off, “if only you knew some of the shit I’ve done.” She then smiled, enraptured with a memory. “Well, you’d _know_ some of it if you wrote my memoir.”

“I can’t…” Rey started, wracking her mind for a feasible excuse. “I…I’m too close to the subject,” she settled on, dumping more sugar than necessary into her cup of coffee. She sat back down at the table, doing her best to ignore Leia’s burning stare of disappointment.

“How about an exchange?” Leia offered diplomatically.

Rey sighed tiredly into her mug. “Leia, I don’t want anything—”

The woman held her hand up, Rey biting back her words. “If you write my memoir, I’ll teach you one of my hobbies.”

“What?” Rey blinked, adjusting her glasses higher on her nose. “You’d…” she couldn’t help the goofy smile forming on her lips. “You’d teach me something?”

“Of course,” Leia said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Why wouldn’t I?” She then paused, feigning thought. “However, I can’t teach you anything until you agree to write my memoir.”

Oh, this woman was _good_.

“I can see how you were a politician.”

Leia just laughed in response.

 

* * *

 

“It’s weird.”

“No, it’s not.”

“My mom is friends—genuine friends—with you. It’s a little weird,” Ben said the following Sunday afternoon, the two cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.

Leia had wanted both to have dinner with her, claiming she didn’t understand how the two were friends when their paths hardly crossed outside of group therapy. She was also quick to point out how the two never made plans with each other outside of their therapy group either; Rey couldn’t tell if the remark stemmed from curiosity or disappointment. Maybe both.

Unsurprisingly both she and Ben begrudgingly agreed to have dinner together, Leia far too delighted by this news. After all it made sort of sense; they had group therapy later and they could just go together.

It wouldn’t be _too_ weird if they showed up together, right? They were friends…it was becoming common knowledge around their group. It wasn’t too weird. She was just over thinking it.

Scrubbing the plate, Ben smirked over at her. “But then again she tends to gather strays.”

Rey flung water at him. “I’m not a stray.”

“I never said there was anything wrong with being a stray,” Ben amended lightly, setting the plate on the drying rack. “Just that you are one. It’s okay, before we know it, I’ll be one too.”

The mirth budding between them ceased, the two reminded of the impending fate of women in the other room.

“You can come later on Monday,” he said quietly as he released the drain in the sink. “Hospice is stopping by to come make her…more comfortable, I guess.”

“Ah, I see,” Rey uttered out, the reality of Leia’s situation hitting her once more.

“Yeah, I’m taking the day off,” he explained, his eyes darting over to where Leia sat in the living room.

“I’m sure your class won’t mind,” Rey assured him with a bump of the shoulder. “A nice break from stuffy Mr. Solo.”

“I’ll have you know I am only a slight hardass in class.” His correction held little weight by the budging grin on his lips.

“But a hardass nonetheless,” she argued.

“Have to be with some of the students.” He dried his hands, handing off the towel to Rey when he was done. “Can’t always be myself with them—I _shouldn’t_ be myself with them.”

Often Rey forgot Ben was a teacher, an English teacher at that. For her, it was both easy _and_ completely impossible to imagine him in a classroom with teenagers. The Ben she knew was irritable, blunt, and defiant. To think he went to a classroom every day and taught students about the metaphors and symbolism in F. Scott Fitzgerald and the works of Shakespeare, it was _laughable_.

Mostly because Ben acted like an overgrown moody teenager half the time.

Yet when she pictured him in slacks, button down, and cardigan (all in the shades of black and grey, of course)…she _could_ see the imposing teacher persona emerge from that never fading teenage angst.

“Rey dear, I have a list of what you need to get at the craft store,” Leia called out from the living room.

Following her call, Rey came to sit by her side. Kylo perked up at her presence, though trotted over to Ben not too far behind her. While Kylo was hesitant at their first meeting, the beast warmed up to her within days, greeting her at the door upon her arrival.

“Why does Rey need to go to the craft store?” Ben asked, crouched beside Kylo. The dog papered his owner with a dozen kisses before sitting patiently beside Ben, waiting to follow him wherever he went.

“I am going to teach her how to crochet,” Leia answered proudly, her tired eyes shining at the idea.

“Why?” he asked with a confused frown. “You haven’t crocheted in months.”

Standing up, he went to readjusted the blanket on his mother’s lap. She shooed him away, sharing an exasperated glance with Rey. Ben ignored the two, tucking the quilted blanket snug around his mother’s lap. These days she got cold easily, often requesting for more blankets throughout the day.

“Because she wants to pick up a hobby.”

“Not this again,” Ben groaned. He turned to Rey, his mouth downturned. “You got her on this hobby business now too?”

Prepared to argue, Rey was cut off by Leia’s less than amused scoff. “Benjamin Bail Solo, the girl wants to learn a skill, there is nothing wrong with that.”

“Thank you, Leia,” Rey said, turning back to Ben with unadulterated smugness. “ _See_? Your mother gets it.”

Ben shook his head, lips pursed. “Sure she does,” he looked pointedly at his mother, “Did you know she has been searching for a ‘hobby’—” he did the damn air quotes “—for weeks and has never stuck with one long enough to actually excel in it?”

Leia simply shrugged, evidently not seeing the problem in Ben’s statement. “Maybe she just hasn’t found the right one.” She glanced back at Rey, patting her hand clumsily. “We have a deal; she’d going to learn and she is going to do it well. I will make sure of it,” Leia declared with more conviction than most had in their pinky finger. “Isn’t that right Rey?”

Pressure was on. “Yes,” she squeaked out. Ben openly rolled those honey-brown eyes at her, annoyance creeping into the curl of his mouth. “You’re absolutely right. No backing out.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Holy fuck_ ,” Rey spun around to Ben, unable to hide the panic on her face, “how many types of yarn can there possibly be?”

Hands tucked into his jacket pockets, Ben strolled idly up and down the aisle, ignoring her whines.

“You told her you’d learn.”

“But…but…” she glanced at one wall of yarn, then at the other, “I thought I’d just rip one from the shelf and that would be good enough!”

_Wool yarn. Worsted yarn. Two ply. One ply. Acrylic yarn._

_Bulky…thin…soft…rough…fancy._

Staring up at the ceiling, Ben’s aggravated groan formed into a half-hearted, defeated huff. “Why don’t we go to the back aisle, there is more selection there.”

Large, warm hands landed on her shoulders, escorting her out of one aisle and into the another—

With more yarn.

A shit ton more yarn.

Rey blinked at the large wall of selections—it covered the entire _fucking_ wall.

“What the hell?” she gasped.

Frantically she pulled out the list Leia gave her.

“She just wrote ‘yarn’!” she grumbled. She looked back up at the wall, overwhelmed. “ _But which yarn_!”

“Maybe,” Ben started slow, “she meant for you to pick which ever yarn you wanted.” He raised his hands up in defense. “That’s just…that’s just my opinion based on experience,” he paused, watching Rey with a forced blank expression, “or you know, common sense,” he deadpanned.

“You’re no fucking help,” she muttered, handing off the list to Ben. “Look at the list.”

He took the scrap of paper, brows pinched together as he read the contents. Pursing his lips, Ben’s seemed to come to a conclusion, moving down the aisle before Rey realized what was going on.

Scurrying after him, Rey nearly rammed into his back when Ben unexpectedly stopped. Agitated he stood in front of a row of thin, yet soft looking yarn. “What’s you favorite color?” Ben demanded.

“Uh…” a pathetic sound came from the back of her throat, “I don’t have one?”

“You are fucking ridiculous,” he groaned. Reaching out, he grabbed three spools of the nearest color— a mustard yellow.

Rey sneered at the color. “I changed my mind I want—”

“Nope,” Ben told her, his tone sharp with no room for arguing. “Too bad, so sad. You made your choice by not making a choice.” He shoved the royal blue spools into her arms, marching off into the previous aisle.

She hurried after him, eventually catching up with his strides. He came to a halt before the selections of needles and hooks. He grabbed the first set he saw, handing it off to her.

Rey’s eyes bulged at the price. “That’s thirty dollars—”

“And one of the best brands,” he explained already heading towards the register, “it comes with needles too.”

“Why would I need needles, its it just…” she scrambled around her brain for the right word, “…eh, _looping_?”

Ben peered down at her, unable to hide the glint of humor in his eyes. “You really know nothing about crocheting.”

“And _you_ do?” she implored, dropping the items on the counter. The kid at the register scanned the yarn and hooks swiftly, his eyes glazed as he did so.

“More than you,” he said with a scoff, already handing the cashier his debt card.

“Hey, I can buy it,” she insisted.

“Too late,” he announced, his card being handed back. He picked up the yarn and hooks, handing them back to her. “Think of it as a thank you for keeping my mom company these last few weeks.”

“I don’t need a thank you,” she mumbled, following him out the store. “She’s the one helping me.”

A smile ghosted over his lips but faded before it could emerge. Opening the door for her, Ben muttered, “Consider it whatever you want to consider it. Come on, we’re going to be late for therapy.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re up…and you’re _home_?”

Lifting her eyes from her laptop, Rey saw Finn standing at the edge of the living room, still dressed in pajamas.

She glanced at the clock—7:16AM.

“What do you mean? Of course I’m up,” she argued, grapping her notepad. An array of books sat on their coffee table. Some basic grammar, a couple on the art of memoir, a few on the process of co-writing a book. Everything Rey knew, besides the basics, about writing was self-taught. If she was going to do this memoir with Leia, she needed to make sure brushed up on her styles and methods. “I’m always up before six.”

Finn’s eyes roved around the room, taking in the mild chaos. “Maybe…but I never see you in the morning besides when you run out and then I don’t see you until the afternoon,” his eyes snapped to her, “actually—where do you go all day? I never see you around anymore.”

“I visit a friend by Republic Square,” Rey supplied, bringing up another tab on her laptop.

She typed in Leia’s name into the search engine knowing she was going to be in for a slew of articles, but it didn’t hurt to do a little research before they started getting an outline and draft.

“A ‘friend in Republic Square’?” Finn uttered, mouth dropping. “Who the hell do you know in Republic Square— isn’t that all old money?”

“A friend of a friend,” she answered, annoyed with his insistent questions. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is when you are on the edge and I never see you,” Finn argued, moving to take a seat in the cushioned rocking chair. “My mind goes to the worst possible case scenario.”

“Like what?” Rey implored, unable to the hide the ebbing fury in her eyes.

Finn floundered. “Like—like—like you passed out drunk in a ditch somewhere!”

Rey’s hands stopped, her gaze dropping from his in an instant. His words stung, she unable to shake of the pinch jabbed underneath her chest.

Is…is that what her roommate—no, best friend—thought? That she’d end up in a ditch somewhere, she’d be inhibited, lost. Could he not understand she was trying here?

“I…I am working on a project,” Rey said, effectively changing the subject. “It’s a memoir for the friend, the one I visit by Republic Square.”

“But what about your actual job—did you ever send in that draft?”

“Yes,” she gritted out, “Last week. I sent it out last week.”

“And you’re still going to therapy—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Rey closed her laptop; apparently she wasn’t going to get work done. She was going to have an inquisition in it’s stead. “And aren’t you supposed to be at the shop?” she reminded him as she stood up from her nest on the couch. She left her impromptu work space to the kitchen, preparing her second cup of coffee.

“We open later on Monday’s, remember?” Finn said tiredly, scrubbing his face. “We made that decision months ago, since downtown is dead on Mondays.”

“Right,” she poured the dark liquid into her mug, less than thrilled with Finn’s lingering presence. “And how’s that going?” she asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, putting a large physical distance between herself and her roommate.

“Well, you’d know if you were there other than to steal books off the shelf.” His displeasure was evident, speaking to her as though she were a child to be reprimanded.

“It’s not stealing if I own the damn place—”

“That’s not the matter,” Finn interjected before she could sum up her defense, “it’s the fact you are _never_ in the shop. I run it by myself, and it’s not even mine. It’s your grandfather’s, he left it to you, Rey.”

Her jaw locked, Rey’s mind simultaneously running a thousand miles a minutes yet going to a complete blank. A heat reeled behind her eyes, Rey rubbing her eyes hard the push the impending release away. Setting her mug down, she went back to the living room and gathered her belongings.

“I sent the check, the rent is covered,” she told him stilted, bothered with how her throat was constricting at the mention of her grandfather. “You still have your job, so just…” she waved her hands in the air, a semblance of a shrug manifested from frustration, “just do your fucking job and keep it going.”

“Rey…” Finn sighed, his hand’s coming to grasp one of her piles but she beat him to it. “Peanut, if you don’t want the shop, then shut it down.”

“ _No_!” She caught herself on the edge of the couch, letting the books in her arms tumble to the floor. Her breath came out ragged, she blinking away the tears fighting against her pride. “I—I already fucking sold his death trap house, and now you want me to shut down the bookshop— _his_ bookshop!”

“That’s not what I am telling you to do!” Finn rubbed his neck, his face twisting in anguish. “I am telling you, if you don’t want it, why keep it! I can’t run it by myself and we can’t afford to hire anyone else. It’s just you and me, and I can’t even count on you.”

She wiped the tears from her face, reaching down to pick back up the books she dropped.

Finn didn’t understand. He would never understand, and she didn’t have the energy or desire to explain it to him.

However, she could fix this situation. She was good at that—fixing things, taking care of things.

“So, I’ll just find you someone to help around the shop,” she declared, a huffy chuckle forced out of her.

Finn blinked at her, verging on exasperation. “Did you not hear what I just told you? We can’t afford it.”

“So we’ll call it an internship and we’ll get a tax break,” she answered, coming up with the fix on the spot. “And I know the perfect person to do it!” Her determination—to prove Finn wrong, to make this right—shined through far brighter than anything else.

“ _Who_?”

 

* * *

 

 “Finn, this is Mitaka,” Rey’s knowing grin was blinding as she waved between the two young men, “and Mitaka this is Finn.”

Behind the shop counter, Finn stood unamused.

Meanwhile, Mitaka shuffled from foot to foot, his gaze trained on the hardwood floor. His eyes darted between Rey and then Finn. Leaning over to Rey, he scuttled a bit, like a child hiding behind their mother’s legs. “I thought you said you’d buy pizza—”

“After, Mitaka,” she patted his shoulder pointedly, her grin still plastered, “ _after_ we’ll go get pizza.”

“How old are you?” Finn asked, watching Mitaka warily.

“Eighteen,” the kid mumbled, falling more and more behind Rey as the second passed.

Finn noticed the kid’s skittishness, lips pulled back in discontent. “Could have fooled me.”

“Anyways,” Rey announced, “Mitaka can help you around the shop in the afternoon. He gets off school at two and can get here around three. He’d be gone by six.” Finn raised his eyebrows, listening to her plan. “So you get a little helper for three hours.”

“We can’t pay him,” Finn reminded her.

“I know,” she said lowly, “hence an _internship_. Mitaka gets work experience, we get free help, and his payment is the occasional fast food dinner and a book of his choice.”

“My aunt’s a health nut, she doesn’t even let tortilla chips into the house,” Mitaka explained sadly.

“Huh,” Finn uttered, before turning his imploring eyes to Rey. “Hey, you think we can chat for a moment, roomie?”

She nodded, giving Mitaka a quiet thumbs up at her departure. Upon entering the back room, Rey let herself drop her grin. “I know he’s a little…awkward—”

“More like lacks all social skills—he wouldn’t even look me in the eye!”

“I don’t even look you in the eye half the time.”

“Case and point,” he told her, hands resting on his hips, “you met him in therapy, huh?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Rey tilted her head from side to side, trying not to tell him the truth. Confidentiality and all; he could tell Finn if he wanted to, but that wasn’t her place. “He’s a great kid! He just needs to warm-up to you. I promise he is better than his first impression.”

An internal battle fought on Finn’s face, his eyes begging to say no, but the defeated sigh told her otherwise. “Okay…he’s on a week trial. If I don’t like him after a week, this entire deal is off.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Rey threw her arms around him, hugging Finn for the first time in possibly months, “you won’t regret it,” she promised, eyes shut in relief.

“Famous last words,” he muttered, returning the hug.

 

* * *

 

“Now loop it,” Leia instructed softly, “over the hook and pull.”

Rey did as instructed, achieving the simple loop. “Hey, I did it,” she said, pleased with herself.

“Do it again,” her instructor ordered, “and again, until you get about twenty little loops and then I’ll teach you a stitch.”

“Cool,” Rey murmured, excited to get the ball rolling. “So what are wee going to make? A scarf, a hat—oh, how about little mittens!”

Leia chuckled, shaking her head at her. “Oh, sweetie, were making nothing right now.”

“What?” Rey dropped the yellow yarn on her lap. “I thought…I thought you were teaching me how to make something.”

“I’m teaching you how to crochet,” Leia said patiently, “Before you can make something, you need to know how to do basic stitches and loops before you can take on a project.”

“But I want to know how to make something.”

“And you will,” Leia assured her, nudging Rey’s elbow, “You need to know how to walk before you can run. You need to know the pieces and parts to put it together to know how to do all the patterns out there.”

Rey frowned, her fingers fiddling with the yarn. “I’ve never really learned like that…I’ve always kind of figured my own way of learning things…”

“More of an independent study kind of gal?” Leia asked with an understanding grin.

“Yeah…I’ve never done well with teachers; that’s why I liked university so much, was kind of able to do my own thing and work ahead when I wanted to,” Rey explained, feeling a little vulnerable. No one ever really asked her how she learned despite excelling in academics. “I like doing things my way.”

“Well, hate to break it to you dear, but your way isn’t always the right way.”

“I am learning that unfortunately,” Rey stated, unable to hide her disdain. Determined, she picked the yarn and hook back up again, “Twenty you say?”

“Yes, I’ll look over it and tell you how it is before you can move on to the next part,” Leia said, toying with her own hook and yarn. She moved slower than Rey, though far more confident, not even glancing at her work.

As Rey attempted to maker her loops small and precise like Leia’s, she could not help but think about what must have occurred that morning. Ben had been there when she arrived in the afternoon, but ducking out with the mention of picking up groceries, Rey barely shouting a ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ at his departure. She noticed most of the house has been cleared up with easier pathways. Adjustable railings and small ramps were added around the steps of the house. Though the most notable was the wheelchair now sitting beside the couch Rey and Leia sat on.

“Ben mentioned hospice was set up this morning,” she asked quietly, peeking to Leia over her glasses.

The woman merely hummed in confirmation.

“How did it go?”

“Strange men and women were in my home and telling my son what he already knew,” Leia answered evenly, “It went about as well as you can expect.”

Rey paused her crocheting—if it could even be called that at this point—a knowing smirk on her lips. “He cursed one of them out didn’t he?”

“Oh, of course,” Leia said with a chuckle under her breath, “Solo men don’t like to be told what to do unless it is by an even stronger woman.”

To here Leia mention her passed husband so fondly caused Rey’s heart to swell. In the few conversations they had on the topic of her husband, Leia often muttered in exasperation yet her eyes shined with ever flowing nostalgia and mourning. Anyone with eyes and ears could sense the love Leia had for her husband however turbulent their relationship may have been.

“Ben’s a lot like his dad, isn’t he?”

Leia hummed again, this time a tired smile on her lips. Her hands stopped crocheting moments ago, resting motionless on her lap, Rey able to still see her work for reference.

“All his life, Ben tried to be someone else,” Leia started, her gaze lifting from her lap and on to Rey. “The child I wanted, the child Han wanted, a mini-Luke,” she paused, a heavy exhale, “But that’s the thing…he’s a bit of all of us. Not just one. The good and the bad…he’s just starting to accept that now.” She picked up her yarn again, resuming her work. “But to really answer your question, Ben has his father’s heart. Both his strength and detriment.”

“Why’s you say that?”

“He cares too much about certain things and can get lost in his own head,” Leia answered easily, her tone indicating she had experience such a circumstance with both her son and husband. Her eyes crinkled on the edges, a hand patting Rey’s. “You know, whether you realize it or not, you’re a lot like your grandfather too.”

A snort then scoff came from Rey, she tempted to drop her yarn and hook right there. “No, no, no— he and I are _nothing_ alike.”

The thought was ridiculous—Benjamin Kenobi was nothing like her, and she nothing like him. It was simple as that. He was kind when he wanted to be, but reclusive and bit off his kilter for most of his later life. He liked simple things, but embraced the weird. For most of her childhood it felt as though they were living like monks, off the grid, however he made effort to remind Rey of morals and values, holding them to the utmost importance.

“Just the way you say things sometimes,” Leia shook her head, staring at Rey as though she were something new and familiar all at once, “remind me of him. Then again, I knew him when he was middle-aged, you knew him in his last years,” she rationed, yet not redacting her previous comment. “People can change, I assume. I know I have.”

“How did you know my grandfather?” Rey asked, addressing the long awaited question in her mind. “Ben mentioned our families were friends, but I’m still confused how that all worked.”

Leia seemed to understand, clearing her throat for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. “Old Ben and my birth father, Anakin, were foster brothers. Both orphans, but grew up with a kind man. When their foster father passed unexpectedly, your grandfather went to great lengths to make sure he kept my father with him. He was nineteen at the time.”

Rey blinked, stunned by this news. She always assumed her grandfather lived a comfortable life, with family at his side and a normal childhood. Falsely, she assumed he had the perfect life, unable to understand her, the poor orphan girl.

On the contrary, he had less.

“They stuck together until my father met my mother, and still he was there from then on, even through the ups and downs,” Leia explained, a bland sadness in her eyes. While Rey wanted to know more, especially about this apparent falling out between their families, her dear friend seemed troubled to be recalling such memories.

“So…” Rey interjected, not liking seeing Leia down and quiet, “in a way we are kind of like family?”

Leia smiled tiredly, holding Rey’s hand. Her grip was weak; too weak. “Yes, in a way we are.”

Carefully, Rey held the older woman’s hand, hoping her gratitude was shown in the light affection.

“Now let me see your work,” Leia insisted, disrupting the silence. Her shaky hands gathered the hook and yarn, examining with intense eyes. “Good. You can move on to a stitch.”

Rey beamed.

 

* * *

 

“I want you all to pick partners—”

“Because we have _so_ many options,” Ben muttered, arms crossed over his chest.

Dr. Andor’s strained smile was reaching its limits that night, especially with Ben who’d been in rare form all session. He’d been a bit quiet the previous evening after he arrived from his rather long drive to the grocery store. While he and Rey put the groceries away, Ben admitted it’d been a rough morning. She waited patiently for more, some elaboration, yet he remained tight lip. Going against her own wishes, she held her tongue and helped make dinner.

“Like I said, pick a partner,” Dr. Andor addressed the group with little room for argument, “and face each other.”

They glanced at each other for a moment, as though assessing if everyone was on the same page. Luckily they were, their chairs scratching against linoleum as they turned to face their partner. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a smooth transition. Across the breaking circle, Mitaka over estimated his force and tumbled off his chair.

A quiet, collective groan came from the group as Mitaka regathered his bearings.

Facing her partner, Rey raised her eyebrows up and down him.

Ben rolled his eyes, his lips twitching.

Not a smile, but a success nonetheless in Rey’s books.

“Now, I want you to silently pick three things you like about your partners appearance,” Dr. Andor ordered in his calm, even voice.

Mitaka raised his hand in the air.

Rubbing his temple, Dr. Andor turned to the kid, his eyes screaming for him to put his hand down.

He did, but only taking it as a cue to speak. “Why?”

“Because it is part of the exercise, Mitaka,” their therapist explained, terse. “We’ve been over this—follow my instructions and you will understand the purpose of the exercise when we are done.”

Murmurs of agreement came from the group, though the once comfortable atmosphere started to tense. If Dr. Andor noticed the shift in the room, he chose to ignore it.

Satisfied, he continued. “You will pick three thinks you like about your partner’s appearance; go ahead.”

Rey has barely taken a second to asses Ben when Dr. Andor interjected again. “Now that everyone has their three, you will both take turns sharing your three with your partner.”

Objectively, staring someone in the eye and giving them a compliment did not sound bad…until Rey realized who exactly she’d been facing at the moment.

Her panicked gaze met Ben’s perpetually pensive honey-brown eyes. Neither spoke for a moment, simply staring at each other. From beside them Mitaka started speaking, his voice above a hush as he stuttered out his compliment.

“I like your shoes,” Ben blurted out, fulfilling the requirement.

“Something about her genuine appearance, Ben. Complimenting clothing is not an option,” Dr. Andor interjected before Ben could continue his roundabout way of the exercise.

Exhaling through his nose, Ben sat up straighter, his crossed arms fidgeting over his chest. His eyes scrutinized her, silently taking her apart, yet Rey didn’t feel the need to cower or become defiant. Ben was her friend…he wasn’t going to insult her. He’d just pick the simplest, most basic attributes to account…which Rey guessed was a form of an insult if she thought long and hard about it. But she reasoned with herself not to let her thought wander in that direction. Furthermore, she did not expect waxed poetry, and she wasn’t foolish enough to believe Ben could compose an impromptu sonnet for her.

What she didn’t anticipate was Ben’s harden gaze to gradually soften the longer he stared, morphing from an agitated man to someone soft, simple, and boyish.

“You have a wonderful smile,” he said quietly, his eyes trained on her. “All your smiles are wonderful; the small ones, the ridiculously big ones, even the forced ones—well, those are a _bit_ creepy. But they are still wonderful.”

Somewhere rooted deep in Rey begged to argue—tell him ‘no’. No she did not have a wonderful smile. No, none of them were wonderful. Tell him how unbelievably wrong he was even if it was his own damn opinion. Because he was wrong.

Just as the words to contradicted stumbled and surged from the depths of her and to her lips, Dr. Andor interjected once again. “You also cannot say anything back about the compliment. You just need to take it for face value.”

_Well, fuck._

“Keep going everyone…”

The massive man in front of her fidgeted again, his arms uncrossing and palms resting on his knees. Tapping and tapping away, but still looking at her as before. “Your eyebrows are expressive. Always jumping and moving,” a chuckle emerged from him as he continued to meet her gaze, “and you do this thing, where your eyebrows furrow when ever your upset, or confused, or when someone is being complete idiot. They bunch together and immediately I _know_ someone fucked up around you,” his mirth toned down, Ben biting his bottom lip, “it’s usually me who fucked up around you.”

A silence fell over the two, Ben’s eyes boring into hers, Rey unable to look away if she wanted to. She had feeling her eyebrows were doing the damn furrow thing he mentioned, Rey suddenly subconscious about her facial expressions.

“I like your—”

“For the sake of time, let’s switch off. The person who hasn’t spoke yet, go ahead and start,” Dr. Andor prompted.

Across from her, Ben deflated the slightest, but listened.

And he waited…when Rey was silent for a moment too long, he began to look concerned.

Well, shit. She had to say _something_ , and not be completely captivated by his startling sweet words. Fuck, she knew Ben was nice when he wanted to be, but he was sweet. Like a bitter sweetness she never knew she needed in her life and couldn’t get enough of now that she had it.

“Um,” she cleared her throat. Discreetly, she wiped her sweating hands on her lap, sending Ben a forced grin. A forced grin he apparently found wonderful, if not the slightest bit creepy. “I like your…face.”

He blinked at her, befuddled by the rather vague answer.

“Like… _all_ of your face.”

He still blinked at her as though she was idiot; _damn it_. “I mean…your face is the window to your soul,” now she sounded like she was trying too hard, saying clichés, “you wear your heart on your sleeve, while I can tell it bothers you to no end, I think it one of the most amazing things about you,” she hurried out, not caring if her words jumbled over each other, “I don’t know with others, but you don’t hide that face and the truth…and I appreciate it. So I like your face,” she finished lamely, scratching the back of her neck.

Momentarily flustered, Ben opened his mouth to respond, but then immediately shut it. The idiot probably remember they couldn’t reply to the compliments, no matter how wonderful or shoddy they were.

Inhaling in hopes to quell her nervousness, Rey scrambled to find her second compliment. She didn’t want to say the same things Ben did because they it would seem like she wasn’t even trying. And by god, was she _trying_.

“I like your height,” she finally said, “you’re kind of… _massive_. But not in an uncomfortable way,” she explained hastily, “but in a protective way. Reminds me of a guard. Not that I’d need a guard, I can take care of myself quite well,” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed together, intensely listening to her ramble, acting as though it were some vital information to scribe to memory. “I guess what I am trying to say is I like your height because it makes me feel secure. I don’t feel that often.”

She paused for a moment, glancing over to the clock. They still had time, though this perturbed Rey. Dr. Andor had the gall to cut Ben’s third compliment off, but left Rey to produce hers, the playing ground between her and Ben feeling uneven.

However that did not mean she could not give him a compliment on a matter he was aware of…

“And your eyes,” she said as her third compliment, “they are weird, but I like them.”

“Honey-brown,” Ben muttered, his voice low enough for Dr. Andor to not scold. Apparently, Ben hadn’t forgotten her little slip up from a few weeks prior.

Despite the heat of embarrassment curling around her neck, she shrugged it off. “Yes. Your eyes are a honey-brown color that shouldn’t exist, but they do. Your eyes are honest; they speak every word you are too afraid to say.”

He flinched at her words, at a loss of how to respond. Not that he could.

So instead they sat across from each other, their gazes connecting and disconnecting at intervals, until Dr. Andor cleared his throat with a satisfied grin.

“How did that feel?” he asked the group.

“ _Weird_ ,” Mitaka offered without a second to spare. “Like she could see into my soul…” he trailed off, glancing back at a rather complacent Kaydel.

“It was…nice,” Kaydel settled on, smiling over to Dr. Andor, “it’s nice to know I am not as awful as I think I am.”

“Exactly,” their therapist praised, “we all are own worst critics. We see ourselves in the mirror and can point out all out flaws with a single glance.” The shifting in the room was palpable, as though they all heard a little more truth than desired in his statement. “But here,” he gestured to the four of them, “is a safe space, with people who care about you. For a moment, you got to see yourself through someone else’s lens…and you probably realized you’re a _bit_ remarkable to them.”

Huh. While pushing herself through the exercise, Rey never once thought the purpose was to see herself through someone else’s point of view, let alone a close friends. However, if that was the purpose…then Ben saw more to her than he often led on. Not that Rey was any better, blundering her words with awkwardness and sappiness she didn’t know she possessed.

“Rey, Ben—do you have anything to add?” Dr. Andor asked, as though remembering they were also in the room.

Ben broke his gaze from her, turning to Dr. Andor with a neutral expressions. “It was…enlightening.”

“Ditto,” Rey tacked on a second later, Ben subtly rolling his eyes at her less than luster response.

Contrary to Ben’s reaction, Dr. Andor seemed pleased with their comments, moving forward with closing the session on a good note. Yet Rey struggled to listen to her therapist’s closing words, feeling Ben’s gaze on her every time she looked away.

 

* * *

 

The 745 train was running late. Again, as it always did on Tuesday nights.

Usually Rey wouldn’t mind. She and Ben would chat to fill the time, joking and teasing for the fifteen minutes wait they endured. Time seemed to fly by when she was with him, the train coming to a stop before Rey realized a significant amount of time had passed.

Tuesday nights on the train were when she and Ben had little need to force a conversation. Silence or brainless talk filled the time as they waited for her stop. She relished these moments where it was just them because it was simple—far more simple than Rey imagined such a scenario to be.

But tonight…she and Ben waited on by the platform, about five feet away from each other. Neither made the notion to speak or stand closer despite the rushing November winds scurrying through the air.

Apparently what they said to each other in therapy ruminated in the depths of their minds, facing each other too much of an obstacle despite the rather kind words they admitted to one another.

Or maybe that was the exact reason why she and Ben couldn’t fall into their normal pattern at the moment. Words that should have stayed tucked away, close to their chest, were spoken with the tenderness of a healer and confidant.

A line was crossed and Rey wasn’t sure who had crossed it, nor what exactly caused their friendship to become a little topsy turvy.

Another chilling breeze came through the platform, Rey shivering.

“Are you cold?” Ben asked, remaining rooted in his spot.

She shook her head. “Just the wind,” Rey assured her, tucking her chin deeper into her jacket. “It’ll pass.”

Ben hummed in understanding, not pressing for more.

Eventually, as it always did, the 745 train came to a stop at the platform. Rey ushered into the train car the moment the doors gasped open, Ben two steps behind her. As usual, they sat side by side, the air thickening between them.

Part of Rey wanted to ask if Ben was lying; if he was just saying nice words to fill the time and fulfill the exercise requirement. But she didn’t, knowing even thinking of asking such a question invalidated the bond they formed.

Beside her, Ben coughed into his shoulder, garnering Rey’s attention.

His lips twitched before going neutral once more, as though keep himself in check.

“My third compliment was your hands,” he said, his words nearly lost in the humming and rumming of the train. “I like your hands because they always want to be kept busy. Tapping, typing, working—whatever. Your hands are always moving; all the excess energy you never want to let out is released through your fingertips.” His jaw tightened, honey-brown eyes darting to her—begging her to understand something she was either too afraid or too naïve to completely comprehend.

“I meant what I said,” Rey offered quietly, “I do like your face and its honesty.”

“You’d be the first,” he said with a chuckle. Lifting his head back up from its slouch, Ben’s gaze caught hers, yet he refrained to look away as he did before.

Instead his eyes searched her, pensive and debating. Analyzing every second and twitch of the moment. The longer he stared, the more Rey felt Ben was restraining himself. Over _what_?—she did not know, not wanting her head to stumble into far fetched fantasies.

Maybe she was a bit rash with the whole ‘never gonna happen thing.’ Ben wasn’t the worst person in the world, but he certainly wasn’t the best. Not that Rey was either; she was pretty low on the totem pole of desirable women. Too rude, too blunt, and awkward as hell; these attributes overshadowed the positive. At least, that’s what Rey’s brain told her when she lingered on thought romance and relationships.

Yet no one had spoken of her like Ben did that evening. Calling her smile— _all her smiles_ —wonderful.

Biting her lower, lip Rey decided to talk about it. That’s what _rational_ adults did, and she was trying to be rational instead of bottling up all her emotions. Especially these conflicting emotions over her friend. “I know I said—"

Her words were cut off by a pair of warm lips pressed against her own. The sudden caused her eyes to wide momentarily before fluttering shut as the reality of the situation sank in. Soft and determined to kiss her, the pressure encouraging if not a bit terrified, the light tremble of Ben’s arms giving him away. For some reason, his apparent nervousness was more encouraging than anything.

Just as he was about to pull away, Rey leaned forward capturing his lips once more, allowing herself to give in _and_ take. Faintly she was aware of the world around her, but the train and it’s surroundings faded to static. All she knew for sure were Ben’s hands cradling her head, thumbs padding gently at the skin under her ear and the tender nudging of his lips against her own.

It wasn’t until the train came to hard stop then go did Rey realized what exactly was happening and where she’d been going.

“I missed my stop,” she muttered between small breaths, the words barely heard in the space between them.

“I’ll drive you home,” he answered, swallowing air. She could not ignored the stunned sound of his voice, knowing he must have been having a similar, dull internal freak out she had moments earlier.

“Okay,” she breathed, letting her mouth find his again without any further prompting.

_Well, so much for talking like rational adults._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well....a bit happened. We got a smooch. And some nice words. Rey might actually have a hobby and a new friend, and Finn has an intern! :D Also, it looks like Rey is still struggling to come to terms about the loss of her grandfather :(
> 
> Fun fact: I have no idea if that compliment exercise is a real group therapy exercise. It's based off of a theatre/acting exercise (one I despised for my entire academic theatre career; yeah that story you probably read about Adam Driver and the acting color exercise he did in college? those are real exercises theatre majors have to do and while it works for some, it's not for everyone). But its an exercise to teach vulnerability and keeping emotions alive with a partner. Only I kept the worst part out in the fic--usually you'd have to repeat the compliments over and over until the instructor tells you to switch. So it's like saying 'I like you hair' over and over to the same person until the words mean nothing and you have to keep the meaning of the sentiment alive each time. And then the compliments would get more abstract as the exercise continued, commenting on the individual's character and personality. It's awkward and uncomfortable, and you have to be serious the entire time, but that's the point.
> 
>  
> 
> On another note--before anyone asks--I do not write smut (I'm just not great at writing it, and if I write sex scenes it is usually important to the plot, i.e. Of Penmanship & Discourse). I don't think these versions of these characters would immediately jump into bed with each other with the timeline I have set out for this fic. You know, intimacy issues and all, which they are working through, clearly. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers :D


	5. they liked each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Alcoholism and alcohol poisoning occurs in this chapter.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later. 
> 
> Enjoy.

“You didn’t have to walk me to my door,” Rey shifted from foot to foot, “I would have gotten here just fine.” She waved to her closed apartment door, glad Finn wouldn’t be home until later that evening. She jammed her hands into her jacket pockets, hiding them from doing something traitorous, such as pulling Ben in for another kiss. Or another dozen of kisses.

The train had been far more eventful than Rey anticipated, and the drive back to her apartment had also included a detour off the road where a heavy make-out was involved. One which only last a few moments before they decided to get back on the road due to lack of mobility. Their sides bumped uncomfortably into the middle console, and Rey was still unsure of where her hands were supposed to go because well, _shit_ she never really gotten that far with a guy before until Ben.

Rey was pretty sure she had a bruise on her hip bone from a less than sensational hip-check by the seatbelt buckle.

Looking back, not the wisest decision, but the last few hours had been more emotional based decisions than anything.

Across from her he nodded in understanding, before shrugging haplessly. “Well, I wanted to,” he said as though it were explanation enough.

And it kind of was, if Rey was being perfectly honest with herself.

“ _Right_ ,” she mumbled, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. “Thank you for walking me here and driving me here…” she trailed off, avoiding all eye contact with him. She knew if she looked into those honey-brown eyes she’d end up kissing him again because apparently that was all her brain could compute at that hour of the day.

Going against her best judgment, Rey held her fist out to him.

And waited…

…Until nothing happened.

Lifting her head up, she frowned at the dumbstruck look Ben gave her.

“You can’t be serious,” he uttered monotonously.

“It’s a fist bump—”

“I know what it is!”  Ben shoved her hand away, Rey dropping her arm back to her side. “I know what a fist bump is—I just can’t believe after everything that we have gone through tonight, you want to end this time with a fucking _fist bump_.”

Her brows furrowed, Rey’s hackles rising. “Well, I don’t know how to end this—we weren’t even supposed to be kissing and pressing faces together in the first place!”

“‘Pressing faces together’?” Ben repeated, exasperation evident in his voice. “What are you _twelve_?”

“In the brain, _yes_ , occasionally!” she replied, her face heating. “I said _this_ ,” she gestured in the space between them, “wasn’t going to be a thing, and _this_ ,” she pointed to their faces, nearly poking a finger up Ben’s nose, “this is making it a thing!”

With a huff, Ben caught her hands with his own, enveloping her into his space. “Yeah, I know about the entire _this_ and _that_ rant about not being a thing. I was there, Rey!”

“Then why did you kiss me?”

“Well, I don’t know—maybe the same reason why you kissed me back?” he replied with flippant snark. “Or maybe the reason why you continued to kiss me— _this_ ,” he waved in the space between them, just as she did, “was consensual and now you are trying to back track and act like it meant nothing.”

“No, I’m not,” she argued, not liking how his sharp words stung. “I just—” she shook her head, “—I don’t understand. We agreed—”

“Yeah, I know what we agreed to and I still think you are a fucking train wreck,” he told her in earnest, “but I also for some inexplicable reason _like_ you.”

Rey blinked, stunned by the blunt admission. “Oh,” she uttered lamely, her hands loosely grasping back. “That…that’s news.”

“Is that hard to believe I like you?” he asked softly, the hostility he pressed upon her melting away to reveal a shadow of pain behind his words.

“No,” Rey said before he could corner her into another question with his penetrable and vulnerable stare. “I don’t _want_ to be in a relationship.”

His eyebrows furrowed, leaning into her condescendingly. “I’m not asking you to be in a relationship, did you not hear the part where I told you you’re a train wreck?”

“No I heard it,” she rolled her eyes, glaring up at him. “Then what are you asking?”

Exhaling through his nose, Ben opened and closed his mouth, struggling to find the words. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, his grip tighten, attempting to steady his own thoughts. “I just don’t want whatever the hell this is to end…I still want to be your friend, Rey.”

“I want to be your friend too,” she assured him, her initial glare softening into a tender gaze. “If it’s any consolation, I guess I like you too.”

“Oh,” he said, his turn to be stumped by her words. “That’s nice…really nice, actually.” A unsure smile begged at the corners of his mouth, but he fought against it, biting his lips together. “So what do we do?” he prompted, also at a loss for what was to become of them.

Neither wanted to be in a relationship, yet _they liked each other_. Both thought the other was a complete mess, yet—as stated before— _they liked each other_. Not to mention his mother was on her death bed and Rey was still in her warped process of grieving but… _they liked each other_.

“Then—” Rey took a deep breath, hoping he’d understand; hoping this is what he wanted too, “—we take this slow.”

“Super slow,” he replied readily. “The slowest it can go.”

“Exactly,” she grinned up at him, noticing his own smile finally winning over. “We take this gradually. One day at a time.”

“Exclusive, but not dating,” he suggested nonchalantly.

“Perfect,” she agreed, finding herself edging closer to him. “No dates, but hanging out together. Whenever we want.”

“I like that.”

His honey-brown eyes glowed with a forgotten warmth, one she never seen him possess until now. Oh goodness, he was looking at _her_ like that. He was looking at her like she unbelievable yet utterly familiar, like a new memory he could learn to cherish.

Leaning up she captured his lips with her own, secretly relishing in the fact she _knew_ how he pressed back and _knew_ the tiny sigh that seemed to always slip from him the moment they made contact. His arms wrapped around her, bringer her closer, she feeling his grin upon her own, a giddy giggle— _a_ _goddamn giggle_ ; who the hell was she?—bubbling in her chest. For a moment, she let herself slip away…just standing there blissfully in Ben’s embrace—

Until a sharp clear of someone’s throat ruined the moment.

“Excuse me, I’d like to get into my apartment.”

Immediately breaking away from Ben, Rey glanced over her shoulder and blanched.

Standing there, with his boyfriend, was Finn.

At least he had the decency to be composed, merely raising an eyebrow in question.

His boyfriend? Not so much.

“Holy hell, Rey is getting some?” Poe exclaimed, earning a smack on the arm from Finn. He ignored him, gapping at her like it was Christmas Day and he received the most unexpected gift of all. “Have I died gone to heaven? Have my prayers for my dear little virgin friend been answered?”

Without thinking, her annoyance and frustration boiling together, Rey prepared to lunge at Poe-fucking-Dameron. Ready to claw at him, tell him to ‘shut up’ and flip him off, giving him a couple of weeks’ worth of animosity.

Yet she barely moved an inch, Ben’s arms secure around her waist. A good thing too, considering how much of an earful she’d earn from Finn if she damaged his precious boyfriend. It was no secret in their household how much Rey did not like nor care for Poe Dameron.

And it was no secret Poe Dameron honestly did not give a shit what she thought.

He saw her as a kid, a little sister figure. Someone he could tease and pick on, laughing when she genuinely became upset and used the term of ‘tough love’ as an excuse for his attitude towards her.

 _“Someone needs to help you get tough skin. Your grandpa coddled you.”_ —She flipped him off and banned him from the apartment for a week after that comment.

As though remembering these facts, Finn nudged Poe, a blush darkening his cheekbones. “You’re laying it on thick, babe.” He then forced a polite face towards Ben. “Since Rey is clearly not going to introduce us, I’m her roommate, Finn.”

Hearing the name, realization dawned upon Ben. “Oh, you’re Finn.”

Ben knew Finn was the one who pushed Rey to attend therapy, but he also heard a surmountable number of complaints about him from her. He knew enough to already decide an unfavorable opinion on Finn, despite Rey’s protests.

Finn squinted at Ben, but didn’t remark on his sharp tone.

“Yeah, and you are?”

“Ben,” he replied, holding a hand out. “A…friend of Rey’s.”

Finn glanced at the offered shake, taking it with a less than enthusiastic smile. “Right, because Rey has so many friends,” he mumbled, failing to keeping his manners in check. “Well, if you’ll excuse us.” He nodded to the door, Rey and Ben stepping aside to let Finn and Poe enter the apartment.

Arms crossed over her chest, Rey watched until them until the door shut. While she wanted to resume where they left off, she was no fool. Finn and Poe were probably crowding the door to peek at her and her ‘friend’ through the peep-hole.

“So…”

“I think I'm going to go." Ben jutted his thumb behind him.

“I was just going to suggest that.”

“Yeah, I have paper’s to grade and whatnot,” he said as a flimsy excuse, his words clunky.

Rey’s face scrunched up. “They killed the mood, you can say it. Let them hear it, they deserve it.”

His loud chuckle filled the hall, Ben not finding the need to argue with her. “Yeah, they really did.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Ben gave a half bow to her in parting. Before he could get too far, she wrapped her arms around him once more. While his arms were pressed to his side, Rey trapping them down with her hug, she felt him sink into her embrace. A warm, firm kiss was pressed quickly to the crown of her head, his cheek resting against the top of her head as she held him.

After a moment he leaned away, breaking her hold.

“Have a good night, Rey.”

“Night, Ben.”

Lips quirking to the side, he departed, though reluctantly.

Her eyes follow him as he retreats down the hall and on to the stairs, taking two steps down at a time. For a second, she is alone in the hall, grinning at where he stood. Grinning at one thought—

_They liked each other._

 

* * *

 

“You dropped a stitch,” Leia tsked, examining the few rows Rey did on her own. She handed back the work, to the younger woman’s awaiting hands. “Unravel it until you get to where you dropped it and start over.”

“Damn it,” Rey muttered, following the orders begrudgingly. “I really thought I had it that time.”

“Did you keep count?”

“…no,” Rey mumbled, flushing once she realized her mishap.

“There you go,” Leia declared, “But you are not doing too bad. I think with some guidance you can start a simple pattern.”

“Really?” Rey asked, halting her hook and yarn. “I thought you’d try to put me through more tests until I moved up in skill…like master and padawan or something.”

Leia guffawed, wheezing slightly. “Oh dear, I wouldn’t do something like that to you. No intense tests, just the basics. It is a simple skill that can you can use to create something.”

Rey picked up her work again, her own laughter quieting. “Who taught you how to crochet?”

“My mother, well adoptive mother,” Leia explained, her own hands stuttering as she returned to her own little crochet project. “Breha Organa, she liked to keep up traditions and deeply respected her ancestors, especially her grandmother who taught her how to crochet.”

“So it’s a skill you’re family has passed down to you?”

Leia nodded slowly, adjusting her bifocals lower on her nose to see her knots and loops better. “Families have a way of passing traits and loves on to you, whether you like it or not.” She did three quick stiches without thought, before falling into a speedy rhythm as she work and spoke with Rey. “Take you for example; your grandfather owned a bookshop and was an avid reader all his life, I think it is easy to say you have gained that trait as well.”

“I can see your point,” Rey muttered, slowly working her project back to where she left off before she unraveled the yarn. “

“But I’m sure you’ve had your ups and down with pride and humility, maybe independent to a fault?”

Well, Leia sure knew how to hit the nail on the nose.

“I supposed…” she allowed herself to partially agree, not looking back up at the woman. She reached the end of her row and flipped it over to continue on the next. “Did you ever teach Ben how to crochet, since your mother passed it on to you?”

“Ben doesn’t have patience to learn a skill like this,” the woman answered honestly, taking off her bifocals to look at Rey. “My son is many things, but patient isn’t one of them.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Rey uttered, her mind fleeing to her conversation with Ben a few days prior. Their conversation about going ‘slow’—she was damn serious, and he appeared to be so too. “He…he is? I mean, I haven’t gotten that impression.”

Leia paused, sighing lightly. “Unless it’s something _important_ , then my son will do his damn best to be patient because that is what is best.”

“I see, good for him,” Rey caught back up on rows and stitches, handing it over to Leia. “Does it look alright now?”

“Perfect,” she said with a satisfied hum. By her feet Kylo perked up, nudging his head against Leia’s leg. “Do you want to go out?” she asked the canine. “I know it can be much for you to be in here all day. Ben will be here soon.”

Rey watched the exchange with a heavy heart. While Ben would never explicitly state the extent of his worries over his mother, his actions often spoke of what he struggled to say. Checking in on her in the mornings, having dinner with her in the evenings, spending all his free time with her—unless Leia groaned and kicked him out of the house to leave her alone. He mentioned hiring a caretaker once or twice around the two, possibly hoping the presence of Rey would sway her, however it did the opposite.

“I have someone with me here right now, Benjamin. I don’t need a caretaker. Besides, Amilyn is next door—if I really need something and I’m alone, I can just call her.” She waved him off, her son not having the energy to argue with her.

Then there was Kylo—the massive rescue puppy Ben adopted a couple of years back. The unbelievably loyal canine, who sat beside Leia every day and trotted at her pace through the house. While Ben loved the dog with probably all his heart, he left his best buddy with his mother for most of day and now at nights.

“It’s not that I don’t want him with me,” Ben explained one evening when he and Rey were driving over to a therapy session. “I do, I really do. But I feel uncomfortable with her alone without anyone there.”

“And no offense, but what _can_ Kylo do in the event of an emergency?” Rey asked, genuinely curious.

“You’d be surprised.”

Rey wasn’t too sure what that meant, but she trusted his judgement.

Scratching the underside of Kylo’s chin, Leia smiled apologetically at her furry friend.

“I can take him out for a walk,” Rey offered, setting aside her crocheting.

Leia halted her scratching, raising a curious eyebrow at Rey. “Are you sure? Kylo can be a bit rambunctious once out.”

“Absolutely,” Rey assured her, grabbing the leash sitting on the coffee table. “Plus, you look like you need a moment to rest.”

“I always look like I need rest these days,” she scoffed. “But I know what you mean.”

Taking that as a ‘yes’, Rey latched the leash on to Kylo and led him out of the house with a promise to be back in a half hour.

 

* * *

 

“ _Shit, shit, shit_ —Leia wasn’t fucking around when she said you were rambunctious, huh?” Rey screeched out, struggling to keep up with Kylo’s jerking run, stop, and go.

A mother passing by with her child glared at Rey, she wincing an apology before her arm was nearly yanked out of its socket by Kylo.

Pulling him close and kneeling beside him, Rey scratched and petted under his chin. “Hey boy, hey—look at me,” he gave a dubious ruff, but listened to her, “you need to chill the fuck out. I get it—you never get to go outside anymore and it sucks. Not getting sunshine, always being inside, sitting and waiting for something to come along…”

Her voice trailed off, Rey’s eyes boring into Kylo’s dark brown beady eyes. He held the same amount of intensity as his owner, the two pensive yet caring underneath it all. Yet the quiet loneliness in his eyes matcher not only Ben, but her own.

“We are a lot alike aren’t we?” she said with a small sniff.

His large, wet tongue then swiped across her face, effectively wiping away a trail of tears she didn’t know existed.

She chuckled at the sloppy kiss, messaging the dogs ears in thank you. “Come on, Kylo let’s finish our walk, just do me a solid and not completely rip off my arm, eh?”

The dog barked happily at her, as though understanding. And maybe he did, she wasn’t too sure, never having a dog of her own.

Standing back up, Rey led Kylo on their walk, the dog trotting closer to her than before.

“We can make this a daily think if you like, since Ben can’t always do it?” she asked the dog as though he would respond. “Out here with you now, I get the whole having a dog thing,” she admitted. “But don’t tell Ben I told you that. I kind of shot down the idea of having a dog more than once with him.”

After going around the block a couple of times, Rey began to lead him back to Leia’s house. His pace picked up at the sight of the door, Rey jogging to keep up with him.

Yeah, Kylo was a bit massive, but he wasn’t too bad besides nearly taking her arm with him when he dashed out the door.

He even sat by her feet when they rejoined Leia. An approval of sorts, one she wouldn’t waste.

 

* * *

 

“Oh look at you, all dressed up for work!” Kaydel exclaimed, rushing towards Mitaka. “Our boy is all grown up Rey!”

From one of the couches in the bookshop, Rey looked up from her laptop, her glasses perched on the end of her nose. Pushing the frames back into place, she shook her head at the two. Kaydel had the poor kid wrapped in a tight bear hug, Mitaka both seemingly delighted and horrified by the embrace.

For the last two weeks Mitaka had been a steady presence in the afternoon, usually restocking the shelves and helping the occasional customer. Rey would pop in for a few minutes at least once every other day to just see how the kid was doing with Finn. Overall the two seemed to get along, Finn a little less high-strung with the new help.

She’d only stayed that afternoon because Finn needed to go in for dentist appointment and didn’t want to leave Mitaka alone to man the shop. Her plans with Leia had been cancelled, if going over chapter drafts and outlines were necessarily plans; while Rey felt awful about it, Leia waved it off.

“You’ve been too good for me,” Leia’s tired and heavy voice said over the phone when Rey broke the news. “Missing a day will do no harm. You might actually get some of my memoir done without me chatting your ear off.”

Begrudgingly, Rey took Leia’s word and sat in the shop to supervise and write. A productive afternoon, yet the least thrilling of afternoons in the scope of these few months.

“I’m just wearing a vest, Kaydel,” Mitaka mumbled, adjusting the brown vest with ‘ _Kenobi’s Book Nook’_ embroidered with cursive into the chest pocket. “I hardly look like I am working.”

“Oh contrary my dear friend,” Kaydel poke his chest, “you are working in an establishment and getting out of school and your house. I say it is a big deal,” she spun around to where Rey sat, “don’t you agree, Rey? This is major for him.”

Rey blinked, the glow of laptop dancing off her glasses. “Yeah…it’s your first real job.”

“We should go out and celebrate,” the other woman suggested, coming to take a seat across from Rey, “get the gang together for some pizza.”

“And by ‘gang’ you mean us and Ben?” Rey asked, highlighting a section of notes she needed to go over with Leia.

“Yes,” Kaydel picked up one of the books sitting on the coffee table. She flipped it open, “What’s this one about?”

“Influential feminists of the 1980s,” Rey answered absentmindedly.

“Huh,” Kaydel muttered, flipping through the pages. Several pages were marked and noted, sticky notes with Rey’s handwriting between the pages. “Some heavy reading I see.”

“My client was a political figure in the eighties,” Rey said, lifting her gaze from her laptop once more. “She wants her memoir to be more than just about her, but about the work she and her peers were doing at the time.”

“That’s… _really_ cool actually,” the woman flips to one of the bookmarked pages, “and people pay you to write about them?”

“Technically for them, most celebrities and public figures don’t write their own shit by themselves. They hire writers to do it for them,” Rey plucked the book from Kaydel’s hand, “and it is my job to keep confidentiality.”

The woman frowned, though appeared to understand. “Makes sense…” she trailed off, before grinning giddily, “so…that means you can’t tell me you are writing Ben’s mom’s memoir—”

“ _Kaydel_!”

“Because I think it is the sweetest thing I have ever heard!” she continued, ignoring how Rey quietly fumed in her seat. “You spending time with his mom, writing about the great Leia Organa Solo’s life, possibly spending more quality time with Ben,” she sang out his name teasingly, poking at Rey’s knee.

Rey gritted her teeth, closing her laptop shut. “I am not supposed to be discussing this with you in public.”

“Oh please, it’s just me and Mitaka here,” she waved back to the kid, he sitting bored out of his mind behind the register, “and it’s not like we all didn’t know who’s Ben’s mom—I mean, they have the _same_ uncommon last name, Rey.”

Scoffing at her, Rey shoved her laptop back into her messenger bag. “Well I didn’t know if anyone else knew, and I respect Leia—”

“Who probably doesn’t care who you tell,” Kaydel interjected.

“—and I respect Ben.”

“Of course you _respect_ Ben,” Mitaka suddenly chimed in from the register.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rey implored, standing up from the couch. She crossed the few feet between the sitting area and the register, matching Mitaka eye for eye.

He gulped.

“It means what it means,” he stuttered out, scratching the back of his neck.

“He means we kind sense some _vibes_ between you and Ben,” Kaydel offered as her simple explanation.

Rey’s eyebrows furrowed, she glancing between the two conspirators. Kaydel and Mitaka were an off pair of friends, but they understood each other. Despite Mitaka’s obvious love struck over the woman and Kaydel’s obliviousness, they worked well together. And apparently could communicate with knowing stares.

An exasperated sigh from Kaydel broke their weak defenses. “I like to imagine us as this little family. For a long time it’s been Papa Bear Ben and Little Mitty and Kay.”

“Are you and Mitaka calling yourself children in this scenario?” Rey asked, unable to hide her chuckles of disbelief.

“Just go with it,” Mitaka muttered, clearly hearing this theory more than enough times from Kaydel.

“Anyways,” Kaydel glared at the two, “Papa Bear Ben, Little Mitty and Kay—us three against the world!”

“Some came and gone, like Rose,” Mitaka added sagely.

“And Rose was like…a cool aunt in our dynamic,” Kaydel stood up from her chair, coming to join the two. “But you Rey,” she inhaled deeply, holding her hands together in glee, “you were the missing piece.”

“What piece?” Rey had a feeling she knew the answer, not sure if she was willing to hear it from the two.

“The Mama Bear,” Mitaka said, “the piece we need to complete our family.”

“You and Ben are the Mama and Papa in this group,” Kaydel threw an arm around Rey’s shoulder, pulling her close to her side, “we’d be lost without you two. This is also my way of saying, those vibes between you and Ben need to happen before the opportunity is missed.”

Rey blinked at the two, hoping her face did not give anything away. Neither knew about her and Ben’s slow road to a potential relationship. It never came up in their sessions, nor when they went out as a group.

Better off to leave it that way with the way Kaydel and Mitaka spoke of them—almost like an obsession. She didn’t want to break their hearts if nothing surmised between her and Ben—not that she thought it to happen, but she could not shut down the little voice in her head that begged her to be realistic for once in her damn life.

“I think you two are just seeing things,” Rey settled on, “Ben and I are just friends,” she uttered, picking up her cellphone. “A friend we need to call if we are actually going to do this pizza thing.”

She ignored the not so subtle looks from the two, calling Ben, hoping no one noticed the little heart emoji she now had by his name on her phone.

 

* * *

 

“You can’t do it,” Kaydel declared, slapping her hand on table, “I don’t think you can eat an entire pizza on your own.”

“I can and I will,” Mitaka argued. Picking up the slice, his eyes narrowed in determination.

“Don’t do it,” Kaydel yelped. She dipped her finger tips into the water and flicked droplets at him. “You’ll get a stomachache.”

“Doing it!” he said, shoving half the slice in his mouth. Determined, he chewed obnoxiously at her.

Kaydel groaned, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “Ugh, this is going to be a disaster.” However this did not stop her from whipping out her phone and recording said impending disaster for her Instagram.

On the other side of the table, Rey and Ben watched the interaction with horror and fascination. Ben came straight from work, attending a meeting afterward for one of the clubs he’d been roped into sponsoring by his students. A book club, specifically focusing on female and underrepresented authors as well as current fiction topics in media. It had seven students, enough to be an ‘official club’, but evidently not popular enough to have more than the bare minimum.

Rey was a little surprised Ben was chosen. “Why not get a female teacher to do it? Seems a bit more fitting,” she dipped her crust in marinara sauce, “no offense.”

“No, none taken,” he answered, rolling his sweater sleeves higher as he reached for another slice of their shared pizza. “Most of the English teachers are male or over the age of fifty and don’t want anything to do with an afterschool club. Something about already paying their dues.” He rolled his eyes at that comment. “So when two of my best students practically begged me to sponsor it and be faculty advisor…I felt a little guilty,” he admitted with a mumble. “But then I remembered being that age and annoyed we weren’t reading anything current and discussing it because reading and arguing about what I was reading was the only thing I was good at.”

He returned to eating his slice of margarita pizza.

“I’d join a club like that if it was available,” she said attempting to recall her high school years. It’d all been a blur, part of her psyche attempting to suppress less than appealing memories. “And good on those students finding a teacher they know would take their side.”

Ben shrugged, biting the end of the pizza and leaving his crust aside. “I get it; I’d probably corner my favorite teacher too. I didn’t want to do it though.”

“Why?” Rey practically screeched. She then noticed the small pile of abandoned crusts on the table. “Are you not going to eat those?”

“No…” he said slowly, “…they’re crusts. They have little use other than being the handle for the pizza.”

Rey gapped at him, a shock ruffle of laughter coming from her. “You are wrong, it’s the best part,” she pulled his plate over, “see,” she dipped the curst in ranch, eating it. “The best.”

“Knock yourself out,” he muttered, less than interested on eating the crust now that it was out of his hands. “I didn’t want to because of my mom.”

“The club, not the crust?”

“Yes, the club,” Ben lips quirked, before he schooled his features again, “but she told me to do it. Said it would be good for everyone.”

“I agree with her,” Rey told him, “it is good. And I think you’d like it.”

His lips twitched again, “Thanks,” he muttered.

“I—I can’t do it anymore!” Mitaka groaned from the other side of the table, clutching his stomach. Half a pizza still laid on the table between them, forgotten in both the despair and glory amongst them.

“I knew it!” Kaydel shouted, still recording.

“Why are we friends with them again?” Ben asked, less than amused.

“Because they’re like family.”

 

* * *

 

If there was one thing Rey learned while being around Leia, the woman loved to meddle.

With everyone she came in contact with.

Even the damn dog.

“Look at those gorgeous Labradors,” the older woman cooed as watched a dog walker pass by with a herd of them one afternoon. “Kylo would make adorable puppies with them.”

“He’s neutered, Mom,” Ben muttered, not bothering to life his gaze from the stack of papers he’d been grading at the kitchen table, “he can’t procreate.”

“Still _imagine_ ,” she insisted.

“Still his manhood has been cut off,” he reminded her in the same tone, flicking through another set of papers, making a mark.

Leia turned to Rey, who sat across from Ben marking up her own rough draft. She faltered when she recognized the sharp glint in the woman’s eyes.

“Rey, don’t you agree Kylo would make pretty puppies with those gorgeous labs?”

“Uh,” Rey looked between the imploring Leia and her exasperated son, whose jaw tightened the longer the conversation rolled on, “I guess. But like Ben said, Kylo doesn’t necessarily have the package to make puppies anymore.”

“Right, right, right,” Leia nodded sagely, taking a pause. “But don’t you ever want to here the pitter patter of little puppy paws, Ben?”

The red pen in his hand clattered on to the table, Ben turning to his mother, his face stony. “Is this really about the dog? Or is this about me and what we talked about the other day?” he asked, his voice tight and raising.

Rey’s eyebrows jumped at the accusation. This had not been the first time she’d been caught in the cross fire between mother and son. Being around at Leia’s insistence had caused her to be muddled in heated debates and arguments between the Solo’s, Rey forced to keep her mouth shut as they battled over ridiculous matters, such as types of bread or where to park the car.

However, she’d never been witness to something apparently touchy for Ben and Leia.

In her wheelchair by the window, Leia did not seem shocked by this response, holding her head high as her son huffed and puffed. “Now not everything is about you—”

“Of course not—”

“But this absolutely is—are you seriously not _ever_ going to have children?”

Rey could feel the gritting of Ben’s teeth across the table as he attempted to keep his anger in check. “Mom—”

She rolled closer to him, stopping once she reached his side of the table. “You are my only son, Luke didn’t have children—you’re the _last_ Skywalker,” she reminded him tiredly. “After everything this family has been through, you deserve to have a happy life with a wife and kids—”

“And what if I don’t want that? What if my version of a happy life doesn’t include all that?” Ben asked bluntly, unable to hide his frustration. “What if my version is just me living my best life, whether it includes a wife or kids or it doesn’t?”

Leia sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Ben…you can’t be the last one—”

“You’re not even going to be around for these mythical grandchildren you want me to have so bad,” he interjected harshly. “You’ll be gone, and it’ll be _just me_.”

Silence fell over the kitchen, Ben breathing deeply, looking anywhere but his mother. His eyes briefly met Rey, begging her to agree with him…or doing something. Resolve the situation.

But she didn’t know how. She never had a mother, instead she had a grandfather. A man who never insisted she get married and have a family. A man who never really pushed an ideal life upon her—he just let her fuck up a lot and tack a label called ‘lesson learned’ upon it. Hands off parenting was his style, only enforcing a couple of rules—rules she’d never dare to defy.

Looking back, her grandfather was probably happy he didn’t kill her.

Glad she reached the age of eighteen, got into a decent university, and had a job. Relieved he didn’t have to care for her, and she now had to care for him.

Funny how that worked out.

“It’s okay to not want kids,” Rey found herself saying despite knowing this was not a conversation or argument for her, “I don’t want kids,” she confessed.

Both Ben and Leia blinked back at her at a loss for words; Leia undoubtedly disappointed Rey probably did not desire to procreate with her son, and Ben…well surprised he didn’t know this about her.

“When you have a kid, you have the opportunity to royally screw it up,” she said slowly, hands fidgeting together, “you can scar them, emotionally, physically. You can be there too much or too little—abandon them. You have the power to completely destroy this defenseless being, that’s _half_ you…and that’s more than a little fucked up.”

Lifting her gaze from her hands, Rey found Leia’s eyes shine with quiet understanding. Old and knowing, feeling the weight of her mistakes with her own child behind her eyes. Her frail hand reached for Ben’s holding his larger hand carefully in her own, as though it were an infants.

Rey believed Leia never stopped holding her son in such a way; he was always going to be the baby she held for the first time all those years ago.

“Ben…” the older woman began, her voice thick with emotion, “I only ask for you to consider having children one day because I don’t want you robbed of one of the greatest joys in life.”

Ben opened his mouth prepared to argue about the subjectivity of happiness, when Leia hushed him.

He fell silent once more.

“And that was _you_ , son,” she admitted with a warm smile, “Doesn’t matter what I did, you were my greatest joy and accomplishment.”

Blinking furiously, Ben leaned down and pressed kiss to his mother’s forehead. Tears spilled from the rims of his eyelids, cascading down at their own leisure pace. He held her close, for once not saying any words in defense.

Feeling she was intruding, Rey excused herself to prepare afternoon tea. As she busied her hands—filling the kettle, turning on the stove—Rey could not help but recall the several photos of Han Solo pressing a warm kiss to the crown of Leia’s, just as her son did.

Just as Ben did to her.

 

* * *

 

Rey didn’t realize the date until her cell phone pinged with a plethora of notifications.

It was her grandfather’s birthday.

October 27th

_Thinking of you and your grandad on his birthday._

_Old Ben Kenobi was a legend, thoughts are with his family today._

_Let us know if you need anything sweetie, I know today is rough._

More messages came flooding in from her rarely used Facebook, along with text messages from old friends, classmates, and some of her grandfather’s colleagues.

Tapping away quickly, she shut off all notifications on her phone—texting, social media, phone calls. Everything was shut off. Tossing the phone back onto the pillow beside her, Rey curled back under the covers.

She didn’t want to look at anyone, she didn’t want to talk to anyone. She just wanted to lay there and forget the gripping twist in her chest every single time she though of her grandfather and how it was his birthday. She willed herself to not think of how he would have been ninety.

An old age, all things considering, but still painful to contemplate. Especially how someone at his age seemed fine, in good health at that age, yet a tumble down the stairs nixed him from the living.

She wonders if he didn’t fall if he would have lived to be over a hundred. She wouldn’t have put it past him.

At some point, she heard Finn open her door.

“Peanut…I know what today is…and I know you probably want to be alone…but I think you should at least go to the session tonight.” He paused. “I’m going out today, going to spend some time with Poe. Let me know if you want to join.”

She didn’t say anything, only curling further into her blankets.

A heavy sigh came from him, followed by footsteps retreating and the door closing. Then the apartment door closed, leaving Rey alone.

Blindly she reached for her phone, and pulled up Postmates, requesting several bottles of the cheapest wine and whiskey she could get at the local _Ralph’s_ and watched as the app updated with its progress.

Within thirty minutes she had her wine and was already warming up a Spiderman _Pop-tart_ in the toaster.

She sat alone in the living room, filling her glass—a bright blue one she bought at the dollar store—and drank. More than three _Pop-tarts_ were in her stomach as she warmed up another one, glad she bought the huge industrial size pack at _Costco_ when she stole Finn’s membership card a couple weeks back to go grocery shopping.

The living room was tidy, probably due to the amount of time she and Finn actually spent in the space these days. He was always at the shop or with his boyfriend, and she was always at Leia’s or writing somewhere, usually at the relatively quiet coffeeshop down the road.

For as much as they paid for rent, they should be in their apartment more. Kind of a substantial waste in her honest opinion.

Feeling the cool air penetrate the apartment, she shuffled back to her room, grabbed her oversized brown sweater and pulled it on. No need to turn on the heater when she could wear layer upon layer. She sat back down on couch, leaving the lights off as she drank another glass, her mind fuzzy but comfortable in the fuzziness.

Finn would probably try to get her to come out, or force her to stop.

But neither appealed to her.

At some point she fell asleep, she wasn’t sure for how long, but she woke up to see the dull afternoon glow filling the apartment from the window.

She watched as the light from the cracked open curtains slowly fade behind the buildings. Shadows grew and drowned in the passage of time, before becoming nothing but vague darkness. A darkness she could see through, but dark enough for her to stub her toe and curse out the world if she decided to get up.

She didn’t decided to get up.

Not even when she heard the knock on her door.

Or the pounding.

“I know you are in there—open the door,” the voice demanded. “Rey, stop fucking around. I asked the neighbors, they said they haven’t seen you leave. Finn said he hasn’t heard from you and didn’t know what to do. He’s afraid to come back home.”

The knocked started again, this time not stopping.

It continued to go and go and go. No rhythm, just urgency.

“I’m not going to stop until you open the door.”

The knocking gave her headache, Rey standing up to shut him up.

Shuffling across the room, Rey held her hands ahead of her, clumsily attempting to guide herself through the dark apartment. She stumbled a bit, knocking her side into the end table and hitting her elbow on the wall. Yet she continued to walk ahead as the room began to spin and her legs struggled to remain sturdy.

She tried to open the door, clammy hands fumbling, unable to twist the lock or doorknob. After a few more tries, she finally got it unlocked, opening the door.

A bath of yellow light flooded her, the dull hall light of the complex blinding her.

Blinking she saw Ben standing there, concern etched across his face.

“Rey, you look like shit,” he uttered, eyes widening a fraction.

“ _Yup_ ,” she said, though her mouth felt sloppy yet heavy, barely getting the word out. She knew in that moment she may have fucked up, but she didn’t think too long trying to focus on her breathing because she didn’t like feeling this dizzy yet weighted down, as though she had no control over how she felt.

Ben inched forward, nudging the door open a little wider than the sliver she allowed.

“I’m ‘ine,” she tried to get out. She wanted to reassure him she was okay, this was fine, this wasn’t the first time. She just needed to ride out her mistakes and promise—a flimsy promise—she wouldn’t do it again when she felt like shit and wanted to forget the pain inside that she felt way to often.

Unfortunately, her words did little to comfort, Ben’s honey-brown eyes shining with heartbreak—because of her.

Silently, he reached a hand out to her, an offer to help her.

To steady her, most likely.

But she could not help, even in her stupor, to think it meant more.

Just as she reached her own hand to take his, her legs gave out and the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't caught on or possibly forgot since the first chapter, Rey *may be* an alcoholic. She just hadn't been drinking as heavily in the last couple of months since she started attending therapy. However she was triggered and she was never going to therapy for substance abuse. She was going for grief and depression.
> 
> Yeah, this fic has laughs, but also some dark/deep stuff is happening.
> 
> If you were a little confused by the last section, remember we are in Rey's POV. It is supposed to be *slightly* disorienting.
> 
> We'll pick back up where we left off in the next chapter.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers!


	6. to be cared for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter took longer than usual for this fic to write. Mostly because it is draining and I was terrified I was writing this wrong, but then I told myself to woman up and just finish it. I did some research, but also we are in Rey's POV so she is occasionally in denial about her situation. 
> 
> WARNING: Discussion of Alcoholism, addictions, substance abuse, hospitals, and car accidents. 
> 
> Typos will be fixed later. Enjoy!

A thumping rattled in her brain.

Followed by the pins and needles attacking her legs.

 _Static_ —her brain, her legs, her mouth—all _static_ to the core, she unable to process anything else.

Scratchy fabric rubbed uncomfortably against her arm—

An arm that was clearly _connected_ to something else.

With a stuttered inhale, Rey’s eyes squinted open, at a total loss. An off white ceiling was above her, fluorescent lights shining off to the side.

In an effort to rub the unconsciousness—not _sleep_ , no this felt ten times worse than waking from a somewhat peaceful slumber—from her eyes, she clumsily smacked herself in the face with her own hand.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she muttered. Her eyelids slammed shut at the impact, the rush of the motion popping her ears.

A gentle hand moved her arm back to her side, adjusting the scratchy sheets on top of her.

“Don’t move your right arm, the IV is attached there,” a low voice told her from her left side. “This is the fifth time you’ve accidently slapped yourself.”

“You’ve kept count?”

“There is not much else to do in a hospital.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” she mumbled again. Her mouth was uncomfortably dry. “I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit,” he replied without missing a beat. “I pressed the button for the nurse. They told me to call when you woke up.”

“I’m afraid to open my eyes,” she admitted, licking her chapped lips.

“You’re going to have to do it eventually,” he told her, “the nurse or doctor would probably prefer to check on you while you’re conscious.”

Slowly her eyes blinked open. The ceiling was still the blurry white she caught a glimpse of moments earlier. Turning her head to the side, she saw the blurry form of Ben. His hands reached towards her, he placing her glasses secure and perched at the bridge of her nose.

The first thing she noticed was his hair—mussed from running his hair through it over and over. Ruffled, coiffed, and a hint greasy from lack of washing. The pensive hunch of his shoulders reminded her that he’d been waiting for her to wake up.

“How long…?”

“A couple of hours,” he answered, understanding the question. “You weren’t waking up, _at all_ , so I called an ambulance.” His forearms remained braced on his knees, head ducked down as he recounted the events.

“My throat feels like hell.”

“You had a tube down your throat, I’d imagine it feels like hell.” His voice remained monotone, not looking back up at her. Instead she focused on his clasped together hands pressed against his forehead.

With a sigh, he lifted his head and grabbed a cup of water on the side table. Carefully he helped her drink the water in slow increments, her throat coarse but her mouth now less dry.

As he set the cup back down, the door opened, a doctor entering with a placid expression. “Nice to see you are awake,” the short woman greeted, picking up the clipboard at the end of Rey’s bed. She quickly tucked the file in her hand under it, before looking back at Rey with a gentle yet stern expression. “I’m Dr. Erso, I’m one of the doctor’s here in the ER,” she pulled the short rolling stool over to other side of Rey’s bed. “I oversaw your care, made sure you were treated immediately as this is a timely situation.”

“Thank you, again,” Ben muttered, briefly lifting his head from its bow.

Dr. Erso smiled lightly before turning back to Rey. “Can you tell me what you remember?”

Blinking slowly, Rey realized she couldn’t recall the last few hours. Or the rest of the evening. She only remembered—

“I was warming up more _Pop-Tarts_ ,” she admitted meekly, “It was like…my seventh little pack.” She swallowed, her throat and eyes itchy as she struggled to recall. “I…was in my apartment alone. Drinking,” she added reluctantly.

“I surmised,” Dr. Erso said quietly, her pen scratching on the paper before her, “Do you remember anything else?”

Licking her lips, Rey shook her head.

Dr. Erso’s sharp blue eyes met Rey evenly, “You had a blackout, Rey. And as from what I can tell from your medical records, this is not the first time.” She flipped back to the file at hand. “Dehydration was the main culprit this time, along with acute alcohol poisoning and a little bump on the head. You could have been in much worse condition if your boyfriend hadn’t gotten you here so soon.”

Rey’s eyes flickered to Ben, who’s gaze remained trained on the corner of the bed, staring into nowhere.

“How long has this been happening?” Dr. Erso asked gently, her voice low.

Rey bit her lips together, her hands fidgeting at their sides.

“I’m going to get some coffee, I’ll be back,” Ben muttered, suddenly getting up and leaving the room all within a few seconds.

From the bed, Rey watched him go—both delighted and distraught by the sight.

“Sometimes it’s easier when a significant other isn’t in the room, glad he got the cue,” Dr. Erso teased off-handedly, before turning stern once more. “Now, how long has this been happening?”

Rey closed her eyes, feeling the prick and overwhelming surge of heavy weights crumbled inside her. Opening her eyes, she saw Dr. Erso waiting for her patiently to answer.

A stranger who knew nothing about her, but clearly wanted to help in some way.

Apparently that was enough for her to confess everything she could.

“I never really drank before—I mean I’d have a glass of wine or a bottle of beer here and there, but I never understood the appeal of someone just binging, loosing themselves in…that,” she said, wiping her face with her left hand. “Then my grandfather died, and it just didn’t stop.”

Huffing, she blindly reached for the cup of water. Sensing her struggle, Dr. Erso handed her the cup of water. Calculated, she observed as Rey drank the water, as though expecting her to collapse or vomit at any second.

Rey was pretty sure she vomited already at some point in her blackout, her stomach wasn’t stirring like a hurricane. It just felt…foreign.

“Clearly, you are aware this is a problem,” the woman stated simply, “most people would deny it, attempt to find an excuse.”

Rey shrugged, wincing at the ache in her body. “I go to therapy,” she said as though it were explanation enough.

Dr. Erso hummed in acknowledgement, however Rey could not decipher if this was a positive or negative response. “Anyone can go to therapy,” she said considering Rey’s words, “but it depends on if you are going for the right reason. You can be depressed, but going to support group that has nothing to do with depression won’t help you. It’s all about figuring out what your specific problems are and knowing how to address them.”

While the doctor’s comment sounded like common sense, Rey found it difficult to believe it was that simple. She always knew she had nervous ticks, but did that mean she had anxiety? Or was she depressed because of her grandfather dying or was depressed far before then, only his death propelling her off deeper into depression? Everything felt connected yet disassociated simultaneously.

Before her Dr. Erso fiddled with the file in her hand once more. Clearing her throat, she opened it, facing Rey with utmost professionalism. “My team and I were able to bring up your medical records, and I have to ask—do you know your family’s medical history?”

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Rey shook her head. “My grandfather always filled it out for me growing up—my parents died before I could even comprehend the concept of parents,” she explained, eyebrows furrowed.

The most she could remember of her mother was the way she’d loop her hair in three buns. She was a dark haired woman with little to no face to wear in Rey’s memories. And her father…she couldn’t remember a single thing about him, no matter how hard she tried. Not even a sound or a glimpse. She only knew he liked to play hide and seek with her.

That’s it.

Dr. Erso tsked, inhaling from her nose. “Well, we were able to discover your family has a history of substance abuse.”

Rey’s brain froze. She blinked dumbly at the doctor. “ _What_?”

“Substance abuse,” Dr. Erso repeated apologetically, “it seems your parents had a history of alcoholism—” papers flipped, Dr. Erso carefully considering her words, though keenly aware of the panic and palpable shock from Rey “—I’d assumed you knew or at least an inkling considering the cause of their deaths—"

“No, no,” Rey uttered out, feeling her throat constrict as the information came hurdling towards her despite the gentle disclosure. “My parents, they…” she trailed off, recalling the story her grandfather always told her.

_They were in a car crash. Lost control, went off road. Died on impact._

Only Rey always assumed, it was due to weather or it was a freak accident. After all, it happened in December… she never thought it to be otherwise.

Why would she have reason to? Her grandfather carefully curated what she knew about her parents, censorship at its finest.

Dr. Erso offered a small gesture of understanding, taking Rey’s hand into her own. “While addiction is not hereditary, it is common for children of addiction to become addicts themselves, especially if it is never addressed.”

Rey took a shaky breath, “I really wish my grandfather was here.”

“To help you understand?”

“No, so I can kill him myself,” she said attempting to be witty, to show this wasn’t affecting her. To prove to a woman she didn’t even know she was beyond this…

Yet her when her face crumpled, she knew it was better to be honest than to hide behind a lie.

 

* * *

 

“I threw out all the alcohol, even the one we use for disinfectant—”

“Finn, I don’t think she is going to try to down the fucking antiseptic alcohol,” Ben bit out, arms crossed over his chest, towering over the other man.

Finn bristled at the comment, but resumed his list. “I also made sure we had nice healthy snacks and also threw out those _Pop-Tarts_. I don’t want them to trigger you—”

“—I highly doubt _Pop-Tarts_ are going to trigger me,” Rey muttered from the couch, watching the two men bicker back and forth over her, “I don’t even remember what they looked like or taste like…I just sort of _know_ I ate them.”

It was a weird phenomenon to explain, yet they understood.

“Your vomit that night also proved it,” Ben interjected, grabbing the throw blanket off from behind the couch. Carefully, he tucked the fleece around her with great practice, Rey’s mind fleetingly going to Leia who probably sat in her own home alone with Kylo.

“The doctor said to take it easy, especially since you might be experiencing withdraw,” Finn said evenly, Rey rolling her eyes. “I came up with a chart for shifts, so you won’t ever be alone,” he took a seat beside her, gripping her biceps with the ferocity of metal clamp. “Peanut, I swear to you—you will beat this, you will get better and you be back to normal soon enough,” he nodded quickly, hiding how he became choked up the longer he stared at her and acted like a human bobble head.

To comfort him, Rey forced a smile of gratitude.

It worked for Finn, he confidently getting up and moving aside for Ben to take a seat at the opposite end of the couch. “Well, Ben has the first shift. Call me if you need anything—”

“I think I got it from here, Finn,” Ben insisted, nudging his head to the door. “You don’t want to be late opening the shop.”

Taking the hint, Finn grabbed his coat and called out one last goodbye before heading out the apartment door.

With him gone, it left Rey and Ben to themselves.

Rather than sit doing nothing, Ben pulls over his backpack and gets to work on grading—grading for classes he was missing to sit with her in her apartment because she apparently wasn’t trusted to be alone for the next couple of days.

Safely from her corner of the couch, she watches as he marks reading quizzes— _Merchant of Venice_ , Act III—the right of his mouth down turning as one student gets every single question wrong. Clearly someone didn’t read or even bothered to Google the Shakespeare to fail spectacularly.

Rey wonders if Ben is the silent disappointed teacher, passive aggressive to a fault or the one to give the benefit of the doubt, talk to the kid or better yet, let them redeem themselves.

She had a funny feeling it was the latter.

“You shouldn’t be missing work because of me,” she mumbled, tucking her legs under her.

He made a mark on one, nodding as he was satisfied with the short answer provided. “I’m not missing work because of you. I’m missing work because I wanted to miss work,” he answered monotonously, squinting at the paper. He brought it closer to his face, then away. Focusing and un-focusing. With a huff, he dropped the quiz and left for the kitchen.

“Can’t you get fired for missing too much work?” she asked, peering at the quiz he left behind.

The handwriting was an average, small print. Yet Ben seemed to struggle to read the careful script.

“My mom’s best friend is the principal, she told me to take off as much time as I want, all things considering,” he answered, he rummaging through her cabinets. The faucet turned on, then shut off. “So here I am, taking as much time as I want off.”

He came back to the couch, offering her a glass of water. She took it, curling further into herself, eyes watching his every move. He was dressed casually—sweat pants, t-shirt and thick cardigan—but it looked like he forced himself out of bed. Forced himself to make sure he appeared decent and showed up at the hospital to pick her up with Finn because he had to _force_ himself to do it.

To put simply, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there. For Rey, to call it disheartening was an understatement.

“Can you please stop staring? I can feel it,” Ben murmured as he attempted to resume his work.

“Are you angry with me?” she blurted out, the thought residing in her mind too long to not be said.

His eyes closed, his shoulder sagging. “I’m not angry with you—”

“Don’t say you’re disappointed then, because I also don’t need that bullshit,” she retaliated, annoyed he was avoiding the true question.

“I’m not disappointed and I’m not angry with you,” he grumbled, head bowed, “I’m frustrated with myself—I knew, I _knew_ you were probably an alcoholic. I saw the signs blaring at me and I ignored them.”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” Rey said stubbornly.

“Don’t be making excuses,” he asked, his voice grave. “You told me to not lie, now I am telling you to not lie. Be honest with yourself.”

Biting on the inside of her cheek, Rey shook her head. Tears stung in her eye, she wiping her face sloppily with the back of her hand. “I’m probably not even going to go through a withdraw—I wasn’t even drinking that much these last few weeks, just that once,” she explained.

“What changed?” he muttered.

If she wanted to be romantic or cheesy, she would have said ‘ _you’_. Because Ben did change the game of life, a game she once played with superb mediocrity, but now with an awakening ambition. But it wasn’t just _him_ —god no. Half the time she wanted to pull her hair out with him. No, it wasn’t just Ben, it was a little bit of everyone.

It was Mitaka being a dumb kid, and Rey for some reason taking it upon herself to look after him. It was Kaydel being sweet, genuinely kind, yet fierce in her devotion. It was going out every Sunday to eat wings and her weight in fries just to see Mitaka and Ben play an unfair game of Skeeball. It was walking Kylo even though he could easily over power her, and sitting with Leia to talk about anything and everything. It was sitting with a small group of not so shitty people every Tuesday and talking about how maybe they were worthy of actually being _happy_ on this damn planet.

It was finding a fucking reason to get out of bed in the morning.

Of course, Rey did not know how to say this without sounding melodramatic or overly emotional.

Instead she said—

“I didn’t feel awful all the time.”

And that was that.

 

* * *

 

“Do you know anything about,” Mitaka flipped the page over, “about the French Revolution?”

From her end of the couch, Rey blinked back at him. “The last time I took a history class, it was six years ago and I barely passed with a C.”

“I’m going to take that as a ‘no’,” Mitaka dropped his gaze back down to his study packet.

He came that afternoon, trading off with Ben around three. Usually Mitaka would be with Finn, restacking and organizing books in the shop, but her roommate designated the kid to sit with her for a few hours.

She was correct to assume Mitaka was getting pizza out of this little morbid get together.

“Do you want to watch anything?” he asked a few moments later, fidgeting in the stretching white noise between them.

“Not really,” Rey answered, eating another veggie straw. She hadn’t turned the television on all day, preferring to sit and read or sit and think. “Nothing good is on during the day time and Finn changed the Netflix password— _again_ ,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s a little paranoid about that stuff.”

“He’s a little paranoid about everything,” Mitaka commented in agreement.

“It’s just how he is,” she admitted reluctantly, “I shouldn’t get as upset about as I do.”

The kid hummed, looking up from his work. “Why _do_ you get upset about it?”

Rey paused, her fingers twisting in her fleece blanket.

She never thought of why she’d get annoyed with Finn. He was her friend, her roommate, she knew his habits and quirks. They were close before… _everything_ … but there was a healthy distance Rey put between them.

He was her friend, a brother of sorts, privileged to joke and commiserate. There teenage years were spent in chess club and the occasional musical, the two bonding over being the only orphans in the damn hell hole. College was ‘fun’, however they were transitioning into adulthood with different concerns. After years of submission, Finn was finally discovering himself, making a home in several cohorts. He wasn’t the same boy with the hand-me-down sweaters she’d beat in chess anymore; he was different. A good different. A different she loved, and would always love because he was _family_.

But a different where they were no longer were on the same path.

And maybe she was different too.

“I don’t know,” she answered.

Not looking back at him, she picked up the television remote and put it on a local channel.

A rerun of _Jeopardy_ played.

She got most of the answers wrong.

Mitaka got every single one right.

A swell of pride consumed her; the kid was far smarter than he led on.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t eat it all in one go,” Kaydel scolded Mitaka as she set the two pizza boxes down on the dining table. “Finn says he’ll be here in a few,” she announced, checking her phone. “Want to come grab a slice, Rey?”

From her corner of the couch, Rey contemplated the offer. While she was hungry, she wasn’t entirely keen on getting up and facing the two. Mitaka could keep himself busy, but Kaydel…she’d wiggle Rey into a less than willing conversation.

However, they were _trying_.

She’d regret to deny their efforts.

“In a bit,” she answered, mentally convincing herself to move her legs and stand.

She heard the two acknowledge her with murmurs before returning to their dinner set up. Bickering and grumbling ensued, Kaydel shooing Mitaka away more than once.

“ _No Ben?”_

Rey’s ears perked up at the mention of Ben, her hand halting as she shucked off her fleece.

“He said he’ll come by tomorrow,” Kaydel said evenly, her disappoint and understanding meshing uncomfortably together. “He has his mother to think about, Mitaka.”

“Right,” the kid said, “I just think she’d be happier if he was here.”

“And _I_ think she’d be exactly the same,” she countered sharply. “I know you are coming from a good place, but you can’t rely on other people to bring you happiness. It’s not healthy.”

“I can hear you two,” Rey said as she came over to the table. Pulling up a chair, she sat down, ignoring their guilty faces.

Silently she ate the pizza and sipped her water.

When Mitaka and Kaydel didn’t join her, Rey raised an eyebrow and gestured to the seats. “Sit down or I kick you out, watch chart be damned.”

Listening, they hurriedly sat down and avoided her gaze and ate.

A less than stellar dinner, but the not the worst Rey had ever experienced.

She wasn’t too sure if she could say that for Mitaka and Kaydel.

 

* * *

 

Around eight-thirty, Rey realized it was Tuesday.

On Tuesdays she had group therapy.

And she was alone—

(Not _completely_ alone, Finn in his room. He finally deemed her ready to be alone since she was on good behavior and didn’t _seem_ to be experiencing withdraw symptoms. It was really too soon to tell.)

\-- alone in the living room. Just herself, the television and that was it. She didn’t have her phone or laptop, a decision made once Finn discovered she used _Postmates_ to get her alcohol. He didn’t trust her to not pull that stunt again. Rightly so.

Laying back down, Rey willed herself to fall asleep. Convince herself sleep was the best option in this scenario, not crying or weeping over the fact she was missing therapy, specifically missing the group all together.

As drowsiness began to claim, a firm knock was heard from the door.

“Can you get it?” Finn called out from deeper in the apartment.

Rey rolled her eyes—all the paranoia and mother-henning apparently wore off in less than 24 hours. She shouldn’t have been surprised.

With annoyance, she made the short trek to the door, swinging it open.

“ _What do you_ —Dr. Andor?”

Standing there, instead of his usual room with his god awful snacks, was her therapist. He stood strong at her doorstep, though there was a hesitance in his eyes.

“Hello, Rey,” he greeted kindly, not stepping any further towards her or the apartment. “How are you?”

“Isn’t this a breach in patient-doctor confidentiality?” she asked skeptically, leaning against her doorframe. “I can sue you for this.”

“I am aware,” Dr. Andor said stiltedly. Before her shifted from foot to foot, arms crossed over his chest. “But when three of my clients tell me my other client had a medical emergency, I become concerned,” he said earnestly.

Rey raised an eyebrow, unamused “I’m _fine_. They shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I also become even more concerned when my wife comes home and mentions one of her patients happens to be my client,” he finished, eyes shining apologetically.

Her brain paused for a moment. The only doctor she saw was…

“Dr. Erso is your wife?” she uttered, attempting to make the connection. The only doctor who’d seen her was Dr. Erso—a kind woman, though stern. Despite the chaos heard outside the halls as people were ushered back and forth from the waiting area to a room, the woman sat down and spoke genuine with Rey. Dr. Erso allowed her to cry and confess as though she had no other responsibilities _but_ Rey in that moment.

“Yes,” he said unable to hide the light in his eyes at the mention of his wife.

To imagine—to _know_ —Dr. Erso was Dr. Andor’s wife…it made sense in a weird sort of way.

They actually looked adorable together if Rey was being completely honest. Pretty, feisty, short woman with a kind heart, stern, soft spoken man? It was a romance novel in the making. Or technically _made_ or in progress, considering they were already married.

But she wasn’t going to tell him _that_. Especially when her privacy was breached, not once but twice.

“Another breach—on _both_ ends,” Rey stated plainly. “You and your wife sure are two peas in a pod.”

“I know,” Dr. Andor sighed, “But if she hadn’t recognized your name, you would have been waiting for hours to be cared for.”

Upon hearing the information, Rey’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“It was probably one of the busiest nights that week and it’s the only hospital in the county that takes most insurance, not to mention the only one in Takodana on top of that,” he huffed a tired chuckle, “it gets busy there.” That was an understatement, Rey suddenly self-conscious as she processed the revelation. “She noticed your name and moved you up.”

“She knew about me?”

“I don’t keep things from my wife—clients occasionally come up when I talk about my day,” he explained. “Especially my favorite group.”

Her lips twitched. “I _knew_ we were your favorite group.”

Dr. Andor shrugged nonchalantly. “All talk about not having favorites is lies.” He inhaled deeply, staring back at her evenly. “We didn’t meet today,” he said, “no one would show up any way so I just cancelled the session. Thought I’d do my part and check in on you.”

“You know about the watch schedule,” she said with an eye roll, the tension slowly leaving her the longer she stood by the door.

“For a shy guy, Mitaka is quite the gossip.”

Of course Mitaka would blab about her untimely episode, to their therapist no less. “I was mostly joking about the breach of privacy—I get it, you were concerned,” she mumbled, arms crossed over her chest, nudging the door opened wider.

Dr. Andor’s eyes shined knowingly, if not amused. “I figured—Remember, I’m your therapist. I know you deflect with humor and aggression.”

“Right,” she stated, the reminder all to present through out the day. “Do you want to come in, have some tea?” she offered feeling Dr. Andor was there for more than a simple checkup. “I mean, I usually have a cuppa in the afternoon, but life has kind of up ended that schedule—"

“Do you need someone to talk to?” he asked, cutting through her ramble.

Confidentiality—the most confident she’d been in days—she said, “ _Yes_.”

 

* * *

 

Halloween was a fucked up holiday.

It was about dressing up, eating a shit ton of sugar, and scaring the crap out of everyone.

For _fun_.

For goddamn fun. _What the fuck?_

Not to mention the kids—the kids were demons running the town on the damn day. Yelling, screaming, stick and gross. And for some reason, they were often left unsupervised, unaccompanied minors wreaking havoc to every person in their path.

Halloween was fucked up holiday, Rey believed it to be such since she was a child and understood the holiday was mostly a capitalist construct to the modern society. Not to mention she always felt like an outsider watching in concerning the festivities.

Growing up, Halloween wasn’t celebrated in their household.

It wasn’t due to religion or beliefs.

It was simply due to her grandfather being, well, _old_.

Walking up and down the neighborhood with her was too much after a long day at work. His back ached and his legs could only carry him so far. He didn’t know anyone he trusted enough to

Grandfather would let her dress up if she so desired, but the extent of her travels where her adjacent neighbors who most just plopped a bowl in front of their door for Rey’s sake. He never took her up and down the street to Trick-Or-Treat, or even went costume shopping. If she wanted a costume, it had to be something she pulled together from their combined closets.

She never complained.

Instead she told the other kids at school she did go Trick-Or-Treating, even if her night was mostly spent watching classic horror films in the living room once her grandfather went to bed. Then once high school rolled around, dressing up and Trick-Or-Treating was no longer ‘cool’ and she never had to combat potential embarrassment again.

Naturally, Halloween faded into the background of nonexistence as she grew up. Not one to party, she was never invited to Halloween bashes nor did she ever have the desire to attend one. Through adulthood she got off scotch free from being entrapped the ghoulish festivities…that was until now.

 “Take one—Hey! I said one Elsa!” she scolded one kid as they snatched a generous handful from her bucket.

The kid stuck their tongue out, before grabbing another handful and dashing down the stoop. She watched, aghast, as the kid ran through the street bumping into other Trick-O-Treaters in the downtown strip. More crying sounded from further down town, the kid undoubtedly knocking someone over in their hasty get-away.

Halloween was a fucked up holiday…and Rey stood by this observation as she handed out candy at the store front. As tradition, downtown held their Trick-Or-Treat Extravaganza, a relatively new event only a few years old but gaining traction. All the shops down the strip would pass out candy at their store fronts, apparently to support the community and small business. While in the past Rey would be able to bypass such an event, being the owner of her grandfather’s bookshop made it difficult (read: impossible) to do so this year.

An unfortunate case, truly.

“Did you see what that little shit did?” Rey muttered to Finn who stood beside her. He was dressed as nerdy worm—a ‘ _bookworm’_ as he corrected heatedly when Rey asked why he was dressed like a dick on Halloween. “Snatched up candy like a heathen.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Kids will be kids.”

“Lame excuse,” she said, unwrapping a Jolly Rancher and popping it into her mouth. “Can I go home yet?”

“Nope,” Finn shook his head, smiling as a couple of kids grabbed candy from his bowl. He waved as they scampered off. “Not until this thing is over,” he glanced at her with a frown, “Can you at least be a little more…I don’t know…witchy?”

Rey frowned, readjusting her Slytherin scarf around her neck. “I’ll have you know, Hogwarts students can be witches—”

“When I asked you to dress up as a witch, I meant like broom stick and pointy hat ala _Wizard of Oz_ ,” he deadpanned. “Not…Comic-Con 2009.”

“Don’t get on the bad side of a Slytherin, Finn,” she grumbled, shivering as a strong gust of wide came through the street. “Can we just say we ran out of candy and call it a night? I’ll have you know I was in the hospital less than a week ago—”

“And you are barely getting out of the house,” her roommate reminded her astutely. “You need to rest, I get it. And I also understand this is a hard time—”

“Please just stop there,” she held up a hand, “you don’t understand because you’ve never been addicted to anything.”

“But, I’m _trying_ to understand—and hey, you actually called it what it is,” he said attempting to congratulate her on something as abstract as acceptance. “That’s the first step.”

Rolling her eyes, she decided to not respond—Dr. Andor said to take a moment, then a deep breath if she felt like lashing out on some who cared. And well damn, Finn cared even though he was driving her up the walls. she pushed her glasses higher on her nose, her hands itching to do something other than standing and waiting for sticky fingers to scavenge for candy.

A taller figure than their usual Trick-Or-Treaters came ambling up the steps, covered from head to toe in a white bed sheet. Eye holes were cut out for the face, Rey only seeing dark brown.

“Trick-Or-Treat! Smell my feet! Give me something good to eat!” he sang out, Rey and Finn immediately knowing who their over-grown Trick-Or-Treater happened to be.

“Mitaka, this is for children,” Rey grumbled, throwing off his crudely made costume. His hair rumpled as the sheet fell to his shoulders. He was dressed in his usually t-shirt and flannel, an average looking high school kid. He didn’t even bother with anything else in the costume. “You are not a child—”

“But I am at heart!” he argued, “And I’ve never been Trick-Or-Treating!”

“Seriously?” Finn gaped in disbelief. Even with his humble and less than stellar upbringing, he found a way to go Trick-Or-Treating. In fact he adored the ridiculous holiday, to the point Rey wanted to hide away from him the entire week, until they were at least a couple of days into November.

“Wacky Aunt?” Rey questioned knowingly.

Mitaka nodded sadly. In a flash, Rey could imagine all the years a little Mitaka, bright faced and skittish asked his aunt to go out Trick-Or-Treating only to be turned away. Every single year.

“Give me your pillow case,” she demanded, snatching his make-shift candy bag before he gave her permission. Unceremoniously, she dumped the contents of her candy bowl into the pillow case until it ran empty. “Here,” she shoved it back to him. “Happy Halloween,” she said with an obnoxiously bright smile.

“Rey!” Finn huffed while Mitaka cheered loudly.

The kids yanked her into a big hug, “I knew you’d pull through for me Mom—”

“ _Mom_?” she squeaked, eyebrows furrowing. Patting him on the back, she pushed him a safe distance away. She wasn’t much of hugger, and by god, for some reason all these people in her life loved to wrap her into the clingy affection. “I am _way_ too young to be your mother.”

“Too much?” he asked, wincing apologetically. A slight panic flashed in his naïve eyes before realizing he was in comfortable company. “How about ‘Auntie Rey’?”

“How about _not at all_?” she implored, exasperated.

However Mitaka’s slowly crumpling, kicked puppy expression consumed him from the inside out.

Well, shit. She didn’t want to make the poor kid cry.

“ _Fine_! ‘Auntie Rey’ is fine,” she grumbled, keeping her gaze averted, over his shoulder. “Where is your supervision, child?” she asked, hoping to drown out Finn’s snickers at their exchange.

“Right over there,” he gestured to the taller figure leaning against the lamppost a couple of yards away.

She didn’t need to look twice to know who accompanied the kid.

“Ben came?” she uttered, hoping she didn’t sound as wistful as she felt.

“He apparently doesn’t trust me to go out on my own—”

“No one trusts you to go out on your own,” Rey interjected, her eyes still glued to where Ben stood. “How is he?” she asked, ducking her head away. Her attempt at nonchalance was met with a smug grin.

“Why don’t you go ask him?” Mitaka urged, “I don’t think he suggested this street because it had the best candy…if you know what I mean,” he nudged her playfully, Rey swatting him away.

Finn cleared his throat. “Hey Mitaka, can you hop into the shop and grab the extra bags of candy since you know, Rey gave you _everything_?”

The kid nodded, dashing between the two into the shop, leaving the roommates alone on the stoop. From the distance, Finn and Rey watched as Ben fidgeted in his spot, looking anywhere but the shop they stood before.

“Go talk to him,” Finn told her quietly, “I’ll man the fort.”

“He hates me,” she declared lowly, unable to hide the crack in her voice. “He didn’t even talk to me during his shift babysitting me the other day.”

“We were keeping an eye on you—”

“It was fucking _babysitting_ because I can’t be trusted on my own,” she said, her hurt evident in her brittle tone. Inhaling deeply, she shook her head. “He wouldn’t even look at me and he was on the other fucking side of the couch.”

She felt Finn’s hand drop on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. “It was a rough couple of days, Rey. For all of us,” his gaze softened, “and especially for Ben. Believe it or not, it was him who suggested the watch schedule, not me.”

“What? But—”

“He cares a whole lot,” Finn insisted, “It’s kind of annoying, but also kind of cool.”

“Wow,” she said under her breath, “I didn’t realize…I thought he was…” she trailed off, unable to find an adequate excuse for her insecurities.

“ _Just go_.”

Nodding to herself, Rey took a deep breath and marched out to face Ben…

Only to want to turn back around about half way there, her courage fading with every step. What if Finn read the situation wrong? Maybe Ben was a control freak and just didn’t trust Finn to keep a good eye on her. Or maybe he really was upset, and he was just hiding it for everyone else’s sakes.

Maybe she could just let this potential whatever-this-is die before it became anything and she could become a dog lady for the rest of her life.

Yup, dog lady was looking like a fabulous option.

Unfortunately just as she was about to turn away, Ben noticed her.

“ _Rey_?”

She stood stalk still, forcing a polite smile on her face half a second too late. “Yup—uh, hey Ben.”

“Hi…” he said slowly, sizing her up. He was still dressed from work but had a classic festive twist, his sleek black sweater donning a simple pumpkin. A group of screaming kids rushed by, his face scrunching in disgust. “Um—how are you—”

“I know I fucked up,” she blurted out, her mouth moving before she was finished thinking. “I know—I know. I’m supposed to be getting better with whatever the hell is going on in my brain and emotions and I fucked up.”

Ben blinked at her, honey-brown eyes widening a fraction. “Rey—”

“I knew I wasn’t supposed to drown my sorrows in alcohol and I knew it when I was doing it, and yet I still did it and it was fucked up,” she released a shaky breath, unable to look away from him or be aware of anything else because she just needed to get this off her chest. “And I…I am _trying_ to be better—”

“You already said that—”

“—and it’s hard and everyone is walking on fucking egg shells with me or babying me. I can barely use the fucking restroom on my own without someone asking me what I was doing in there—and don’t get me wrong—I get it. I scared the shit out of everyone, hell I scared the shit out of me, but please—” she closed her eyes, hands clutched into a stark white by her side, “ _please don’t leave me_. Please don’t stop being my friend because, oh my god, these last few days have been hell not being able to talk to you and thinking you probably hate my guts—”

“Rey, I don’t hate you,” a pair of heavy, comforting hands landed on her shoulders. “Rey, I could never hate you,” his voice was soft, gently warming the frosty thoughts consuming her mind. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

She nodded once, swallowing. She let Ben lead her away from downtown, eyes remaining closed.

 

* * *

 

“I needed a couple of days,” Ben began, “I needed a couple of days to think…to breathe a little.”

Side by side they strolled through the empty street a couple of blocks over from downtown. The curfew for Trick-Or-Treating was looming, most parents bringing their children inside before the temperatures dropped lower. From an outsider, they probably looked a little silly. A tall imposing man, with a smiley pumpkin sweater walking around the street with a woman dressed as less than put together Slytherin student.

Or better yet, no one cared.

No cared at all because they had their own lives to worry about.

“It was a lot,” he said lamely, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wasn’t angry with you—you _need_ to understand that. I’m not angry with you, I don’t hate you…I’m just upset about the situation.”

Licking her lips, Rey nodded slightly, acknowledging she was listening. She didn’t trust her voice or her filters to keep herself from crying or insulting, or both.

“Please understand my perspective—” he stated, his voice quivering, “I received messages from everyone you know, some people I didn’t even know, asking if I’d seen you. No one knew where you were at because you weren’t out and about doing what you normally do. It wasn’t until Finn—who was out of town need I remind you— told me what happened. What that day meant,” he paused, chewing on the inside of cheek contemplating his next words. “And…I knew immediately what you were doing because it takes one to know one.”

Her feet stopped, Rey finally meeting his gaze. “You’re…”

“Sober for three years,” he answered the unspoken question.

“But you never said anything.”

Ben huffed, a empty laugh escaping him. “Yeah, because the first thing I want to tell a breathtaking woman is, ‘hey, I’m an alcoholic and I think you are one too. Let’s be _maybe_ halfway happy together’?” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not something I share often because it’s personal and I don’t need to become some testimonial. I got sober for me and only me.”

Rey stared at him, struggling to understand why’d he’d still want to be around her. “You shouldn’t have even been around me or…I don’t know. I feel like I should have known,” she said quietly, shifting from foot to foot. “Is…is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“A bit, yeah,” he admitted, neither apologetic or regretful. Just honest.

“ _Oh_.”

“Like I said it was a lot and I knew what you were doing the moment all the pieces clicked.” His hands fidgeted in his coat pockets, struggling to say the next part of his version of the night. Inhaling through his nose, his jaw twitched as the rim of his eyes turned a pinkish red. “So I got there as soon as I could and when you opened the door, it was like seeing a past me. Acting like everything was fine, acting a fake sober no one believed.” He swallowed thickly. “Then you passed out. I was able to catch you, but you bumped your head on the doorframe and then you weren’t waking up…” He stared off into space, lost as the events consumed him once more, this clearly not the first time. “I called 9-1-1 thinking…‘I can’t lose another person. Dear god, I can’t lose another person’.”

Her hand reached for his wrist, holding it tight. “You’re not going to lose me,” she mumbled, blinking through tears. “I promise you won’t—”

“Don’t make that promise,” he forced out, his throat cracking, “because none of us can keep that kind of promise.”

His words violently reminded Rey of his family situation and of her own. He was right. None of them could make promises of being there when life had a way of saying ‘fuck you’ before you could even try.

Silence fell over them, neither speaking as they stood under one of the lampposts speckled across the street. At some point Ben’s hand wiggled out of his coat pocket and intertwined with hers. Though she barely noticed this change, the weight of Ben’s confession altering the moment.

“I started going to AA,” she said quietly, “Dr. Andor suggested it—he actually suggested changing _a lot_ of things…but baby steps,” she muttered, feeling his thumb rubbing circles into her knuckles. “I went last night.”

“And?”

“I’m going next week,” she assured him. “I didn’t talk, I didn’t want to…” Rey shrugged. “But a start is a start.”

Glancing up from their hands, she saw his lips twitch.

“And I won’t be going to group therapy for a while,” his hand stilled for a moment before resuming their small circles. His gaze remained on the inky sky rather than her. Rather than annoyance, she felt relief. Rey wasn’t too sure she could talk to him without crying about nothing and everything if his honey-brown eyes bored into hers. “Some one-on-one sessions are in order…apparently I have some unresolved resentment to my grandfather I need to get sorted out,” she grumbled, discreetly wiping away the tears flowing at the statement.

“I could have told you that.” His gaze finally dropped away from above to her. His honey-brown eyes pierced into hers, his tearful and closed expression softening. “Hey…I know it’s not going to be easy, but I _am_ proud of you.”

Huh.

No one had ever said that to her before.

Someone _proud_ of her? Even when she felt at her worst and was trying to make sense of the puzzle of herself—someone was _proud_ of her.

For once Ben might have said the right words.

The rest of her composure fell away, Rey tucking her head into his chest. He held her close, letting her cry into him, a human safety blanket for the time being. Her hands clung to the sides of his coat, her subconscious fear of him walking away emerging in her vulnerability. The firm-yet-light kiss on the crown of her head washed away insecure worries.

“You’re not alone,” he murmured against her hair. “I’ve got you.”

She hugged him harder, unable to recall the last time she willing felt the comfort of an embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey, we are all proud of you *wipes away tears* baby steps girl, baby steps.
> 
> I keep on adding more chapters because things I think will take a couple thousand words end up being a chapter long XD
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers :)


	7. never hurts to ask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this might be the longest chapter for this fic, over 9k. And the next one will prove to be longer.
> 
> We are heading towards the end soon; I think this fic will end with either 9 or 10 chapters.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

She ran more often and earlier.

Most of the world was still asleep.

Finn was still asleep, his snores echoing in the night silence. She could make a solid assumption Mitaka was asleep, the boy up late gaming or doing whatever it was teenage boys did on a week night. Kaydel probably just went to sleep, working until the early hours on her classwork. Wrapped in her bed with Kylo by her side, she expected Leia to be dozing in and out of slumber—she never went into deep sleep these days.

Ben was awake.

He once mentioned getting up at five in the morning every day; a habit, a routine, something he never could shake off once settled into his bones as a boy spending the summers on a ‘hippie farm’ with his uncle.

She also knew he was awake because of the message her sent her that morning—

** Ben **

**What’s the cut off of coffee before 7am?**

**_ Rey _ **

**_Infinity._ **

****

** Ben **

**You’re no help.**

**_ Rey _ **

**_< 3_ **

** Ben **

**-_-**

** Ben **

**< 3**

For the last few mornings, she’d go through downtown, by the canal, and straight up to Republic Square before catching the train back downtown. She’d be back at her apartment before eight in the morning.

Running made her aware, running made her feel the crisp air across her skin. A fresh mist of a new day. She push herself to keep going until she reached the station platform. Climbing up the stairs to the top, she’d stop on the landing before she swiped her card for the train.

From the height of the landing, the sunrise hit just right, cascading light upon the entire city. Hues of orange, yellow, and fading dark blue blended together as the night descended into morning. A bath of cool and warmth hit her as she stood watching the sun emerge from the horizon, a chill running through her at the contrasting temperatures.

On the platform, nothing existed but her and the sun.

Just her, the emerging light, and subtle dark of the last evening.

 

* * *

 

“It’s a little weird,” Rey stated, squirming to get comfortable on the coffee-colored sofa loveseat. “You know, it being you and me.”

Her awkward chuckles fell short at the sight of her therapist.

From his chair, Dr. Andor remained unamused. “I think it’s fine, Rey,” he said evenly, clicking open his pen. A notebook sat on his lap at the ready; clean and fresh, ready to be tainted by her woes and circumstance. “We can skip with introductions; I think we know each other well enough. Why don’t you start with why you are here?”

Hands fidgeting, she grabbed the red pillow beside her and held it to her abdomen. “Well…I am here because I am stunted in a way.”

“ _Stunted_?” Dr. Andor repeated, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah.”

His eyes narrowed on her, all too knowing.

Closing his notebook, he tossed it to the floor. With calculated eyes he leaned forward, not breaking her gaze. “Rey, I know you bullshit your way through your career, you’ve said it that many words before. I know you like to deflect with humor and snark.” Rey sunk lower into the sofa at his words, feeling the knowledge and truth in his statement. “Forgive me for saying, but you can’t pull this shit with me. If you truly want to get better, tell me without all this ‘wittiness’ why you are here.”

Well, when he put it that way…

“I’m an alcoholic,” she started, “I don’t like saying it but I am, and I hate it.” Her eyes darted away from him, focusing on the popcorn ceiling above them. “I also lost my grandfather almost six months ago, and I kind of hate the old bastard because he hid things from me and…and I never had a real childhood because of him.” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “I feel…I feel like I am six ways fucked up because I…I never let myself live for myself and it took me blacking out and realizing there are people around me who care about me…to…to finally wise up.”

A heavy breath escaped her, her chest in pain as though she’d been running a marathon.

Across from her, Dr. Andor sat back into his chair. “You’ve thought about this?”

“Well, when you have all electronics stripped away from you except for a shitty flip phone, you got time to think,” she said with a shrug. “I just didn’t want to say it like that…or really at all.”

The therapist reach over and opened his notebook once more. “If you are this aware right now…I think you are going to be okay, Rey.”

Since walking into the room she felt lighter.

 

* * *

 

“ _Shit_ ,” Rey grumbled, losing her grip on the mattress. Unceremoniously, the full size mattress toppled over, not quite landing properly on the box-spring. With a huff, she yanked the mattress with all her might to lay right—

Only to fall flat on her back.

“ _Argh_!” Legs kicking and arms whacking, Rey pulled herself up as much as she could, still partially covered by a mattress. Heavy though not intrusive, the mattress laid on her. And while she could wiggle, it would take more effort than she was prepared to give. She was already exhausted from moving most of her furniture, she didn’t need to add ‘solo escape attempt’ to her list of strenuous tasks for the day.

So she laid there.

For how long, she wasn’t sure.

It felt like a few minutes, but it could have easily been a few seconds. She didn’t have the will to get up until she heard movement in the apartment.

“Finn!” Rey called out, hoping her voice carried through the closed door.

Within a moment or two a knock was heard from outside her room, Rey lifting her head from the floor. “Come in!”

Peeking his head into the room, Finn’s eyebrows furrowed, jaw dropping. “Uh….what are you doing?”

“Rearranging the furniture.”

“By yourself?”

“It can be a one woman job.”

Finn held his hand’s up in defense. “Not saying it’s not…” he tilted his head to the side, looking at the mess she got herself in, “I just think maybe moving a mattress is a two person job.”

“Valid observation,” Rey said. Humbly, she held her hand out. “Please help me—I’m afraid I’ll be trapped under here forever.”

Shaking his head, Finn entered the room and took her hand. Carefully, he pulled her out from under. Now free, Rey went to the other side of the mattress, prepping to lift her end.

“On the count of three—” Finn picked up his end, mirroring Rey. “One, two, three!” Rey ordered quickly. The two lifted and dropped the mattress back into place within moments. “Woo! We did it,” she cheered before flopping back on the bed.

Catching his breath for a second, Finn eyed her curiously. “Why the sudden urge to change up the room? You’ve had it the other way forever.”

Since moving in, Rey’s bed was always on the wall to the right of the door. She’d enter, toss her bag to the floor and drop into bed with the span of ten seconds. It was truly wonderful. Less steps, lower volume shouting to Finn, and she just needed to lean a little awkwardly to get her door open while sitting in bed. An ideal situation for someone like her.

However, the corner her bed resided was further from the window and maybe she favored one side of the room over the other if her mess of clothes and books by her bed were anything to go by.

When she explained this to Dr. Andor, he suggested maybe some decluttering.

Of course, Rey took this as completely rearranging her bedroom.

Was it a little extreme? Maybe.

Was she enjoying it? Sort of—so that was a win.

Laying sideways on the bed, Rey could now see out the window from its new spot, her curtains drawn—a first in months—open. Her bookshelves moved to where her bed was formerly and her desk was on the wall opposite.

Almost a complete one-eighty of her former configuration.

She found she kind of liked it.

“Sometimes change is good, Finn,” Rey told him.

The words did not feel her own, but the sentiment was there.

 

* * *

 

“That’s good you asked him for help,” Dr. Andor praised the following day.

Three sessions a week felt excessive, but Rey technically had the time and it sped up the therapy process. Dr. Andor wanted her to get back to group sessions, however he also understood there were some topics they needed to dig into before he could release her back to her average schedule.

“It was moving a mattress,” Rey clarified, unimpressed with herself.

“But would you ask for help in the past?” the therapist asked.

“No…”

“Then you did good,” Dr. Andor insisted. “Sometimes asking help on little things can lead to asking help on major tasks—it builds _trust_ , Rey.”

“But I trust people,” she argued, “Sometimes I trust people too easily.”

She recalled how she’d easily loan pencils and pens to other classmates knowing realistically they’d never be returned. Yet she still believed and trusted her peers would. Rarely did it happen, her realist view winning out.

However in the scheme of trust, those instances felt trivial.

“Then what changed?”

“I…I do trust people,” she found herself saying again. “But for some reason they don’t trust me?”

Her drunk episodes aside, Rey realized her friends did not rely on her. Well, they had not relied on her until recently. She wasn’t sure why the trust wasn’t mutual.

“We can’t change other people, you can only control and change you. If you feel others don’t trust you, why do you think that is?”

The only person she felt immediately trusted her and she him, was Ben. Then again he was someone who did not easily trust…yet he did with her.

Nearly upon meeting.

Yet he already knew her—saw her shitfaced at her grandfather’s funeral. Knew where she came from, who her family was…knew enough to make the adequate decision if he wanted to befriend her. To trust her.

He honestly should have ran the other way. But he didn’t.

He opened up…so she opened up.

“I…” her throat suddenly felt tight, the realization hitting her, “I think people in my life don’t trust me because I don’t open up.”

She remembered her twenty-first birthday party in vivid flashes.

Not enjoying herself. Finn rushing around to introduce her. She panicking behind her smile. Closing in on herself. Finding a moment to sneak away to be alone, taking the wine and the cake with her. Sitting by herself in her room, unable to recall a single face or name of the crowd she met that night. The crowd there for her birthday in a sea of individuals she knew of or knew of her…

None of them meant anything to her.

That was the first night she got drunk, trying to numb the panic coursing inside her veins.

“Do…do you feel uncomfortable in social situations?” Dr. Andor asked quietly, passing a box of tissues to her.

Rey took a handful, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose.

To answer his questions, she nodded mutely.

“Do you find yourself closing off…maybe being abrasive in these situations?”

Again, she nodded.

“Rey…have you ever thought,” Dr. Andor took a deep breath, observing her carefully, “that maybe you might have an anxiety disorder?”

“What—no. I don’t get anxious,” she said hastily, squirming in her seat, jaw locked. “I don’t have anxiety, I don’t get nervous over stupid shit. That’s not me.” While she never knew anyone who explicitly had anxiety, she didn’t have _that_. She couldn’t. Didn’t people with anxiety breathe heavy and sweat a lot? She didn’t do that. Nope.

Exhaling through his nose, Dr. Andor reached into the small cabinet beside him. He pulled out a sheet of paper, with several boxes and descriptions printed. “First of all… I think you have a stereotype of anxiety in your mind. Not everyone with an anxiety disorder is as you put it ‘nervous over stupid shit’. They look like a normal person.”

Rey raised her eyebrows but didn’t interrupt.

“Why don’t you humor me—let’s go through this list together,” Dr. Andor asked, motioning to the paper on his notepad. “In the last six months have you felt insistent worry?”

“Everyone worries.”

“Don’t generalize it—just say ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

Rey pursed her lips, hands clamped together on her lap. “Yes,” she grumbled.

“Have you felt consistently agitated?”

“What does that have to do with anxiety?” Rey asked, confused.

“Agitated, angry…. _abrasive_ ,” Dr. Andor listed slowly, “are symptoms of anxiety no one talks about. Overwhelmed with everything in your life, you snap at people you care about. _Moody_. Every little thing, even someone entering the room when you least expect it, sets you off. Always on edge, ready to be on the defense.”

Rey chewed hard on the inside of her cheek, feeling too much of herself in the description. “Yes,” she gritted.

“Difficulty concentrating? Fatigue?”

She recalled all her failed attempts to write or continue with a hobby. Getting frustrated with her inability to accomplish anything.

Sinking further into the sofa, she said, “Yes. And yes.”

“Muscle tension?”

“Yes.”

“Trouble sleeping? Falling or staying asleep.”

She often woke in the middle of the night and couldn’t fall back asleep. A common occurrence, one she had since her early teens. “Yes.”

“Inability to relax?”

“Yes.”

“Avoiding social situations?”

“Yes.” Rey answered reluctantly. Across from her she watched as Dr. Andor checked off and made notes on the paper. “I thought I was an alcoholic and grieving, not someone with anxiety.”

“You’d be surprised how often anxiety is linked to substance abuse,” Dr. Andor said simply, looking back up at her. “And how having anxiety can make the grieving process ten times more difficult.” He glanced down at the paper, fiddling with his pen. “Would you say you’ve had these symptoms before your grandfather’s passing?”

“Yeah…I mean I have never slept well and I hate going out with people. I’m an introvert,” she said, attempting to generalize again.

“There’s a difference between being an _introvert_ and actively _avoiding_.” He hummed for moment, his lips quirking to the side. “Then again you can be both.”

“I don’t see how tacking another label on me will solve my problems,” she grumbled, already knowing where Dr. Andor was getting at.

“It’s not tacking another label, Rey,” Dr. Andor said, setting aside his notepad and papers. He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. “It’s understanding the _root_ of your actions. I am not trying to ‘fix’ you or put labels on you—I’m teaching you how to understand _why_ you react the way you do and how to function in your life. You can’t let your anxiety control or hinder you. Saying you have it does not make you weak or gives you an excuse, it signifies you want to get better.”

“I _want_ to get better,” she said, meeting Dr. Andor’s gaze. “It just feels like I’m floating in this orb of ‘getting better’,” she said in air quotes, rolling her eyes—damn Ben and his use of air quotes and rubbing it off on her, “and I don’t know how to necessarily do that besides going here and quitting drinking.”

“That’s what we are going to figure out,” Dr. Andor assured her. “You are already doing more than you realize, even if it feels like nothing.”

“What should I do in the meantime, as I’m still figuring this all out?” Rey asked, feeling both empowered and light footed.

Dr. Andor smiled lightly. “Live your life.” He sat back, the session already coming to a close. “Some people think just because they are still trying to figure themselves out, they can’t continue to live life and make mistakes, make plans, pursue relationships,” he said the last bit a little teasingly. “You can still do all those things—in fact, I encourage it.”

“ _Really_?” Rey said stunned by Dr. Andor’s candid advice. “I thought I had to be serious about getting better. Focus on me and no one else.”

“You are, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be happy. Everyone deserves to be happy and to receive love,” he said, eyes shining with understanding. “And I think…” he started hesitantly, before biting the bullet, “Ben may have told you he was _okay_ with waiting because he cares about you and didn’t want to scare you away.”

His words caused a punch in the gut and a flutter in her chest.

Despite convincing herself over and over again, Rey knew Ben was ebbing in the friendship territory because of her. He said so himself how much he liked her the moment they met, wanting to get to know her contrary to all her chaos. Yet he held back—she liked to believe in another life he’d have less sense of rattling around in his brain and just ask her to be with him. However she knew she’d turn away even if it pained her. She’d be top scared, too upset, too disappointed—in herself or in him? She didn’t know.

Pulling back and looking at the pros and cons, Rey realized Dr. Andor had a point.

She deserved to live life and be happy. Ben deserved it too…if he happened to find that in her, then who was she to deny. After all, _they liked each other_.

The flutter in her chest increased, she overwhelmed, but overwhelmed in the _good way_ , by the thoughts of Ben.

Then reality set back in— “Wait—is this another breech in privacy?”

Dr. Andor shook his head. “I am just making this observation based on what you told me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I feel like that’s a lie.”

“Believe whatever you want to believe, Rey,” he glanced at the clock on the wall, “Looks like our time is up—see you on Friday.”

 

* * *

 

Walking through the halls of her former high school was strange. Most of the classrooms and lockers looked the same, except for maybe a new paint job here or there. Hand painted posters for Winter Formal hung from the rafters and decorated the walls.

Rey never went to Winter Formal; never saw the appeal.

A student or two straggled by, rushing to class or sneaking through to ditch. Somethings never change.

Rubbing where her visitor name tag was placed, Rey made sure it was flat and sticking on the edges.

When she went to the front office and said she was there to see Ben, the ladies nearly lost their minds.

“Ben—as in _Ben Solo_?” the woman at the front desk uttered in shock. “He never gets visitors, especially from pretty young ladies. I thought he was celibate.”

“I thought he was gay,” another chimed in a few desks away, peeking over her computer monitor.

“Well, I’ll be damn, you certainly prove he is _neither_ ,” the first woman declared, handing off a clipboard. “Just put name and relation, then we’ll get you a visitors pass.”

Following through with the orders, Rey decided to just put she was his _girlfriend_ in the relation subject, maybe feeling a little confident.

The ladies swooned at the sight, probably gossiping the moment she left for his classroom.

Taking another left, she found herself in the English hall. Double checking the number she wrote, she walked down to the end, stopping once she could peek through the small door window.

The door was positioned at the end of the classroom, Rey only able to truly look into the room at an angle. From her vantage point she saw a couple of kids already checking out, doodling or texting. A tall figure then came by and swiped the phone from the girl’s hands and tucked it into his pocket.

“Thank you Ms. Lindell. You can pick up your phone after class I’m sure your boyfriend can wait,” Ben said as he continued to walk through the classroom as one of the students read aloud. The girl groaned, dropping her chin into her hand and focused back on the book.

Upon reaching the front of the class, Ben picked up his own copy from his desk and flipped to the correct page. “So what can we make of Emma’s character based on our introduction?” he asked the class.

A guy raised his hand, Ben nodding to him to answer. “She’s privileged.”

“ _Okay_ …” Ben hummed, though clearly displeased this was the only observation. Still, he turned to the whiteboard and wrote the suggestion, his perfect cursive glaring back at everyone else. “Anything else?”

“She is lonely,” one girl announced without bothering to raise her hand.

Ben perked up, eyes lighting up. “How so?”

“Her mom’s dead, her sister is married and away, and the woman who was like a mom to her just got married too. It’s just her and her dad,” she said, nose wrinkled. “And she takes care of him all the time.”

“So I guess that makes her caring or loyal,” another student pipped in, getting the ball going.

Ben quickly wrote those words down under the title _Emma_.

A hand shot up. From behind the window, Rey notice Ben tense before allowing the prim and proper girl to speak. “Mr. Solo, while I am a fan of Austen’s work I believe Emma to be obtuse and insipid, the most lacking of Austen’s characters. I’d prefer if we read _Pride & Prejudice, _or at least something of greater value.”

Ben’s jaw locked for a moment, before he nodded once, as though considering the girl’s words. “Thank you for your input Ms. Gale, however I think you will find Emma is more than the crude interpretation many like to give her. Just because someone is apparently given the world, such as Emma, it doesn’t mean they escape the pressures or pitfalls of life. Such as humiliation, sadness, loneliness, and loss…” he trailed off, before clearing his throat, “loss of friendship and whatnot. I think you’ll find you and Emma have a lot in common. I know I do.”

“I consider myself more of a Lizzy,” the contradicted.

Ben openly rolled his eyes. “ _Everyone_ considers themselves a Lizzy, Ms. Gale. And hate to break it to you, but we’re not all Lizzys.”

The class snickered at that response while the girl seemed unaffected.

Leaning and sitting on the edge of his desk, Ben read from the book held out before him. He wore his usual dark color sweater and slacks, this time a navy blue pair with a charcoal grey. However black sneakers adorned his feet, far from the complete professional look. More of a laid back approach to his school attire.

Before his class, he was a different man.

Calmer, in control, not the least bit anxious or fidgety. He commanded the room, but did not consume it. Present, but not imposing. Not to mention he took the mantel of teacher and advisor effortlessly.

Ben was a sight to behold while teaching.

“Excuse me ma’am— _Rey Kenobi_?”

Rey spun around from the window, coming face to face with Principal Holdo—oh, er— _Amilyn_ Holdo.

“Principal!” Rey all but exclaimed, stuttering the word out.

The lilac hair woman silently laughed, amused by the response. “Oh dear, I haven’t been your principal for at least five years.” Her brows then scrunched together. “Which brings me to my next question: what are you doing here?”

“Um—I—Visitor’s Pass!” Hurriedly, as though the woman could _expel_ her, Rey patted the name tag. “I’m visiting.”

“Huh,” Amilyn uttered, adjusting her periwinkle blazer. “I didn’t know you knew anyone…”

“Like you said five years,” Rey replied, rocking on the balls of her feet. She suddenly felt severally underdress in front of the woman, with her Converse, jeans, and oversized green sweater making her look more like a student than a visitor.

While in high school Rey never got into trouble, quite the opposite. Straight A student, a 4.5 GPA. The only time she’d been asked to visit the principals office was to receive an award and when Amilyn Holdo wanted to personally help her pick a university to attend because she was ‘too smart and clever to just go anywhere’.

Nonetheless, she did just the opposite. Rey attended the closest university with a decent creative writing program and one Finn could also attend.

“And what have you done these last five years? By the way I heard about your grandfather,” the woman rested a hand on Rey’s shoulder squeezing lightly. “I’m so sorry for your loss. He was a good man.”

For once condolences didn’t feel like a slap in the face. Taking Amilyn’s words, Rey forced a smile until it felt real. “Thank you, but otherwise, I’ve been alright. I’ve been working with a publishing company. Ghost writing and whatnot.”

“Good, good,” Amilyn nodded, “I always knew you’d find something you’d love.” She then glanced at the badge then the door behind Rey. “Who are you here to visit by the way; classes don’t let out for another fifteen minutes?”

“Eh…” she looked back at the classroom. “Ben—”

The classroom door swung open, revealing the man in question. He halted for a moment, thrown off by the sight of both Rey and his boss by the door. “Uh—do you two want to tell me why you are speaking in front of my door…?”

“Rey says she’s here for a visit,” Amilyn prompted, both intrigued yet stern. As thought expecting to catch them in lie. Probably not Rey’s smartest move to just show up and wait until class was released to speak with Ben. She didn’t know his schedule well enough to gage when he’d finish class. She just wanted to catch him before he facilitated his afterschool club.

“Uh—Yes. A visit,” Ben repeated calmly. “She’s here to talk to the afterschool club about women in literature. She just came a little early,” he answered easily.

“Oh, well then,” she smiled at the two, “it’s always good for the students to hear from an outside perspective, especially from someone who is in the business. Tell your mother I said ‘hello’, Ben.” Amilyn nodded at the two before continuing on her way.

Watching as she turned down the hall, Rey spun back around to Ben. “Five years and it still feels like I am in high school when I speak to her.”

“Yeah the feeling never goes away,” Ben concurred. He then peered down at her, a small grin teasing at the corners of his mouth. “What _are_ you doing here?”

“I need to speak with you,” she said obviously.

“I realize that…but now?” Ben asked, eyebrows raising. “I’m kind of teaching a class right now.”

She felt her face heat. “I meant _after_.”

“Right…” Ben murmured, before peaking back into the classroom. “They are all independently reading right now. If you come in quietly, they won’t notice you until the bell rings for the end of the day.”

Opening the door a smidge wider, Ben allowed her to pass through. He motioned to the back table where a couple of stacks of papers sat and a chair. She nodded gratefully before taking a seat and watched Ben head back to the front of the class. His hand reached inside his pocket and plucked out a blue dry-erase marker. He quickly wrote down the assignment— _pick a character to track for the duration of the novel and chart how Emma’s actions affect their choices_.

“Alright, the assignment for tonight is on the board. If you have any questions, shoot me an email,” Ben announced to the class, student perking up from her copy of the book at the sound of his voice. “Whatever you do—do _not_ read ahead. We are reading this together in class and if you can’t help yourself and want to watch a movie or tv show adaptation, don’t disgrace me and watch Gwyneth Paltrow’s _Emma_ —that’s a garbage version.”

A few chuckles followed as the teenagers began to gather their belongings and tucking them into their backpacks. A couple of students snuck glances at Rey, confusion evident on their features, but never addressed her presence. Only five minutes remained until the bell rang, most of the student remaining in their seats, playing with phones or talking amongst each other. Ben clearly did not try to fight the uphill battle of afternoon attention spans, the kids acting as though this was a common occurrence.

The prim and proper girl—Ms. Gale—walked straight to Ben’s desk, her chin held high. Rey could feel his frustrated sigh from across the room at the sight of the girl. “Mr. Solo, if I decide to also read another Jane Austen novel concurrently with _Emma_ in class and write a paper on it, can I get extra credit?”

“No,” he answered immediately. “You have no need to be concerned about your grade in this class Ms. Gale.”

“But Mr. Solo—”

“I already said ‘no’, don’t push it,” he told her sternly, though not unkindly.

The girl huffed. “I just feel like we don’t earn our grades with your easy A mentally with this class,” she argued.

“You’re a smart girl Ms. Gale—think of this class as a blessing. Less time worrying about Literature and more time trying to finish thirty problems for your AP Trig class for homework,” he said, effectively ending the argument.

With an annoyed pout, the girl marched back to her seat, ignoring the looks she received from some of her classmates. For a moment, Rey felt for the girl, knowing she was a bit of a grade-grubber herself though not as adamant as Ms. Gale. A bit more passive, if she were completely honest.

As the time inched closer to a minute, Rey watched as the girl who sat in the back who had her phone taken away. A sigh came through her nose, eyes glued to the clock on the side wall of the classroom.

Soon enough a sharp shrill of the bell rang, student fleeing with ‘goodbyes’ and ‘see you later’s to their teacher. Ben smiled and waved, sharing his own sentiments back.

Begrudgingly, the girl from the back walked slowly to the front of the class. “Can I have my phone back Mr. Solo?” She paused for a moment before adding, “Please.”

Without a qualm, he handed back the device. “Don’t do it again—I have a pretty easy policy about phones,” he said, walking to the back of the classroom with the girl.

“I know, it’s just…” she grumbled, lifting her gaze up from the ground. Her eyes darted to Rey, suddenly uncomfortable. “It was just something _important_ and it wasn’t too my boyfriend,” she said with an eyeroll.

“Alright—whatever it is, I hope it gets resolved so you can focus in class,” Ben said earnestly, earning a grateful smile from the girl. She nodded, hurrying off with a fleeting ‘goodbye’.

Ben turned to Rey, the comforting and confident persona of high school teacher slowly fading away as he stood before her. “You wanted to talk?”

Rey blinked at him. “You’re really splendid at your job.”

His face scrunching together, shaking his head. “This?” he jutted his thumb behind him. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing—you’re a natural teacher,” Rey insisted, still stunned over how relaxed and easy he navigated the classroom. “You’re doing what you are meant to do and that is pretty awesome.”

Peaking from his hair, the tips of Ben’s ears flushed pink at the compliment. “Uh, thanks,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. He came closer, sitting on the edge of the table she sat by. “I like it—teenagers are weird, but they are not terrible. They are at the prime age where some of them are wonderful and some are shitty, but you take what you get and make the most of it.”

She smiled at his words. “You have no idea how comfortable and genuine you sound right now, do you?”

He shrugged, clearly still not at ease with compliments. Peering down at her, he nudged her leg with his foot. “Stop distracting, you came here for a reason.”

She dipped her head down, the confidence she had to just march up to him and say ‘I want this’ kind of simmered away as she sat in the classroom. Yet when she looked back up at him, and his honest honey-brown eyes, she felt her sureness increase.

There was nothing to be afraid of—this was _Ben_. He liked her. She liked him. And he’d been there through the worst of it. He wasn’t going to leave her.

Clearing her throat, she stood up and faced Ben. A curious and amused quirk of his lips caught her attention, however Rey did best to remain focus. “As we’ve discussed previously—we like each other.”

Biting his lips together to not laugh or smirk, Ben nodded. “I’m aware.”

“And we said—well I said—to take it _way slow,_ ” she stated, expecting him to react in some sort of way or respond. When he said nothing and just waited for her, Rey continued. “This is me saying I’m okay with _not_ going slow.”

His eyebrows rose. “So…you want to go _fast_?” he said, not quite believing her.

“I want to go at a pace that feels natural for us,” Rey said no longer feeling awkwardly exposed. She knew what she wanted and knew it revealed how she truly felt, and that was okay. “If that means we go fast in some parts and slower in others, then that is okay. Because I don’t want this to fall to the wayside as we going through our own personal problems,” she admitted, shuffling a bit closer to him. “It’s too important—our relationship is too important to do that.”

He stared at her long moment, considering her words. His hand reached for hers, pulling Rey closer to him, causing Ben to look up at her. She intertwined their hands, not looking away.

“If it was my choice…I think you’d be terrified how _sure_ I am about this and how fast I’d want this to go,” he confessed, swallowing tightly. “But you are right… _this_ is too important,” he motioned between them with a smirk, both recalling her flustered gestures, “so I like the idea of going at our own pace.”

“Good,” she said with a grin, squeezing his hand.

“Good,” he echoed.

Just as he was leaning forward, ready to capture her lips with his own, the classroom door opened. Reluctantly, the two separated, though not without yearning glances. His confession played on repeat in her mind, Rey suddenly realizing how true her conversation with Dr. Andor rang. From what she knew, Ben moved through the majority of his life unsure, constantly conflicted with his choices.

His steadfastness with _her_ was not lost. In fact, it weighed more than Rey would ever admit.

A string of unsuspecting students came into the classroom, talking loudly as they went straight to the front of the room. Desks were shoved to the side to make way for the circle of chairs.

Smiling at her apologetically, Ben stood up. “I’m sorry, I need to facilitate a club.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she moved to the side, some of the students starting to glance their way, “you do what you need to do. I’ll call you later,” she assured him, stepping back. She already broke a couple of boundaries visiting, she didn’t want to impose longer than necessary.

“Or you can stay,” Ben suggested, “not make a liar out of me, and actually talk about women in literature to the club?” He gestured to the group of students some chattering with each other and occasionally glancing back at them with curious and knowing eyes.

A pair of girls giggled, Rey catching the phrase ‘Mr. Solo’s girlfriend’ more than once or twice from their brief conversation.

“I mean… _really_?” Rey blinked at him, at a loss. She’d never been one for speaking or lecturing, however this encounter appeared different than any presentation she did while in school. Not to mention teaching wasn’t necessarily her _forte_ per say… “I didn’t prepare anything—”

“You don’t need to,” he told her confidently, “I think they’d be happy just to have someone new to discuss with.”

Rey chewed on her lower lip, considering the offer. “Are you _sure_?”

“I wouldn’t bring it up if I wasn’t,” he replied bluntly.

“I could really fuck this up,” she reminded him.

“And I wouldn’t mind a bit, they need to be shaken up sometimes,” Ben said, lips fighting against a chuckle, “these walls shelter them too much.”

“Alright,” Rey found herself agreeing, “I’ll stay.”

Ben’s delighted yet brief smile already made her decision worth it.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Rey nudged Finn’s shoulder, sitting beside him on the sofa, “I need a…” she swallowed a bit, giving herself the last push to do it, “I need a favor, Finn.”

“ _Wah_?” he uttered, eyes wide and mouth full of pho. Slurping the noodles quickly, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You need a favor…from _me_?”

Fiddling with her chopsticks, Rey poked at her pho. “Yeah…” she said, keeping her eyes on her food. This was the first official meal they were having together in probably what happened to be months. Not exactly the most grand meal, but one they enjoyed and brought comfort to both.

“With…with what?”

“I, uh…” she pursed her lips, then shrugged nonchalantly, “I need someone to drive me to AA,” she mumbled. “I…I don’t like going by myself.”

“But you go to therapy by yourself…” Finn reminded her, before suddenly catching himself, “Not that I don’t want to take you—I’d be happy to take you and pick you up, I just…I’m trying to understand why this is different.”

Rey honestly could not find the right answer because she did not know _what_ was different. Going to AA was just _different_ than attending a therapy session. And she found herself hating the lonesome train ride back to the apartment after the meetings.

Was this her being _dependent_?

No.

If worst comes to worst, she could go on her own. Her lonesomeness over the train ride was not debilitating to the point she couldn’t suck it up if she hand to do it. But it would be nice to be with someone if she had the option.

“And isn’t it supposed to be anonymous? Like no one is supposed to know who you are and no is supposed to know you go or something…” Finn added lost in his contemplation of the concept of ‘Alcoholics Anonymous’.

“No, but yes,” she sputtered out with a groaned, stabbing a bit of her lemon in her bowl, “I can tell who I want about my life, Finn. You’re not included in that _anonymity_ for me.” Since she was attempting to turn over a new leaf with vulnerability, Rey decided to be honest with him. “I don’t know why I don’t like going by myself, I’d just like to have someone there after.”

His eyes roved her face for a moment, as though expecting foul play, a joke, a roll of the eyes…yet Finn was met with nothing of the sort. Just Rey blinking back at him with a hint of fear.

“Okay,” he said digging back into his food, “I’ll drive you. At eight, right?”

“Yup,” she said with an exhale.

Great—the hardest part was over.

 

* * *

 

“Now loop and pull,” Leia instructed, peering over at Rey’s handiwork. “Good, good. Glad to see a couple week’s absence hasn’t completely derailed your progress,” she teased.

Sitting beside her on the bed, Rey shook her head. “No it didn’t, I practiced with some loose yarn around the apartment. Like you said, have to practice to get better.”

“I’m glad you kept up,” Leia praised. A cough wracked her body, she covering her mouth with a handkerchief. “Excuse me,” she muttered, leaning further into her pillows.

Over the last week, Leia’s condition inevitably became worse. She rarely left her room, opting to have her meals in bed. While Rey was hesitant to resume her visits, expecting Leia to disown her company, Ben insisted on her returning.

“She’s alone and she kicks me out if I hang around too long,” he explained one evening, the two eating Chinese take-out and watching reruns of _Seinfeld_. It wasn’t much but it was nice to simply spend time together after long days.

Poking at her beef-broccoli Rey felt guilt gnawing at her. If it wasn’t for her little episode, she’d be spending all her time at Leia’s, not wanting the woman to off in her lonesome. “But does she know…”

“I told her you were sick,” Ben told her apologetically, “under different circumstances I would have told her otherwise but…are we really going to tell a woman on her deathbed one of her favorite people was in the hospital?”

“I see your point.”

So Rey resumed her visits under the guise of having the stomach flu. Leia believed her and Ben without a word of argument, just asking the two to sit with her.

“Isn’t she making good progress, Ben?” Leia asked her son. He sat on the arm chair by the bed, with a book his class was reading in his hands; _Emma_. Most of the girls in the literature club afterschool were glad with the change of topic and author, sharing their relief with Rey the previous day. They’d been knee deep in Shakespeare and most of the kids were loosing their minds over the iambi pentameter and metaphors. Austen was a nice change of pace though not lacking in substance.

Lifting his eyes from the page—the page he held rather close to his face— he glanced over to the yarn object in her hand.

“Uh…yeah?” He stated more as a question. “It’s a great scarf.”

“It’s a hat,” Rey corrected dully.

“Then it’s a great hat,” he amended hastily, ignoring the identical stares of exasperation from his mother and Rey.

“He doesn’t know anything,” Leia assured her, “you’re doing great, Rey.”

“Thank you,” Rey told Leia earnestly.

“Of course dear, I only speak truth.”

Ben snorted, ducking his head further into his book when his mother sent him a glare. He brought the book closer to his face, squinting.

Rey’s lips pinched to the side at the sight. Over the last couple of months, she noticed Ben’s little quirks and mannerisms. Such as how he chewed on the inside of his cheek or pursed his lips while in thought. Or his habit of crossing his arms over his chest or shove his hands into his pockets, unsure of what to do with his hands. Yet one little quirk was capturing her attention more so than the others…mostly because of its increased frequency in the last few weeks.

Ben holding his papers and books close to his face to read.

From her experience, this was more than a little quirk; Rey had an inkling Ben needed glasses, but was refusing to acknowledge his debilitation. Not so surprising when considering Ben’s prickly pride, yet humble attitude. His focus was on his mother and work, spending more time on himself and his issues was probably not productive in Ben’s eyes.

Rey sighed, knowing his little quirk to be a conversation for a later date.

Focusing back on the yarn and hook in her hand, Rey spared a glance at Leia. The older woman wore exhaustion gracefully, as though it were an honor to be in such a position despite all that was taken from her. Leia’s hair was gone, the chemo stripping it away. Instead her head was covered with a blue knit cap, thick and wooly to keep her warm. Her range of movement was little and far between, however her gestures and strides were with purpose in their fragile state.

Rey wanted to take the pain away, though she knew not how. So she sat beside Leia and crocheted, talked about her book, and laughed about a history Rey had no hand in making.

As though feeling her eyes, Leia glanced at Rey with a smile. She took one of Rey’s hands and held it in her own, she squeezed it lightly before releasing shakily. A gesture of comfort and companionship, one she did often at random times—thought Rey did not know if it was for herself or for Leia’s own sake.

“Ben, didn’t you mention you couldn’t stop by next Saturday because of a work thing?” Leia ask breaking comfortable silence that lapsed between the three.

Looking up from his book, Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. “ _Yeah_ …I have to chaperone the school formal. We are low on chaperones this year due to budget cuts, so everything is volunteer this year instead of stipend.” He bookmarked his page and sat the book down on his lap. Leaning forward, he sat up taller, assessing his mother. “Why, did something come up? Do I need to back out? Because I can if necessary.”

“No, no, no,” Leia shooed the idea, staring at her son forlornly, “nothing to do with me. I was just thinking…you need more chaperones and I know this _lovely_ lady who I think wouldn’t mind helping…” she turned Rey, a knowing and stern glint in her eyes. “I mean you two spend all this time together, and I know she doesn’t have plans on Saturday because she planning on being here,” she said nonchalantly, though the demand of the thought was not lost on anyone in the room. Not even Kylo, who’s head popped up from his pillow on the foot of the bed, to watch the conversation with baited breath.

Oh, Leia was _good_ …if not a little insulting.

(Rey could do things—go out and hang out with people— if she wanted, thank you very much.)

But that was beside the point. Needless to say, Ben wasn’t entirely pleased.

“ _Mom_ , you cannot just make decisions for people,” he said, jaw tight. “They have lives and—”

“I’ve done if before in the past and it worked out well, don’t see why I should stop now,” his mother argued with a harrumph. “It would be nice if you two did it together, almost like a date.”

Ben’s eyebrows jumped into his hairline, stunned by the rather blunt statement. Meanwhile, Rey felt her face heat considerably, almost a flash fever with the overwhelming rush of embarrassment. Neither Rey or Ben explicitly informed Leia on the state of their relationship, simply leaving it as ‘friends’ even when things were becoming muddy with liking each other and toeing into the _more than friends_ territory. Their relationship status shouldn’t have been a concern of Leia’s, all things considering. So an unspoken agreement came between the two—they wouldn’t mention it unless absolutely necessary.

Clearly Leia had other plans and was not as oblivious as they’d liked to believe.

Hoping to save the situation, Rey blurted out. “I’ve never been to a school dance. I wouldn’t even know what to do—”

“All the more reason to go!” Leia insisted. She whirled back to her son, the scolding mother in her emerging in a snap of a second. “Take this girl to her first dance, it’d be fun for the both of you. It can even be a do-over for _your_ disastrous winter formal—”

“Let’s not talk about that!” Flustered, Ben stood up, ready to leave the room.

Leia tsked. “He still has some hurt feelings about that night,” she informed Rey lowly. “Not that I blame him. That kind of stuff scars you.”

“ _Mother_!” Ben hissed, his veins on his neck nearly bulging. Catching himself before he went any further, he schooled his features. Standing beside the door, he took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled shakily. “I see what you are doing—but I would be at work, it’s not like Rey and I would be slow dancing to ‘Here Without You’ by 3 Doors Down, or be giddy high schoolers. We’d be separating the bumping and gridding of _way too_ erratic teenagers.”

“That’s…an _oddly_ specific song,” Rey could not help but point out, attempting to hold back her snicker.

Ben glowered, the tips of his ears turning red. “Whatever—I’m taking Kylo out.” He grabbed the leash from the bedside table and latched it on his dog’s collar. “Come on, boy,” he ordered, Kylo immediately following his master.

Watching his leave, Rey could not help but wince. She didn’t know about him chaperoning the winter formal, he keeping quiet over the matter.

“He needs to take you out on a date before I kick the bucket,” Leia muttered, fluffing her blanket. “I can’t handle the mooning you two do over each other, it’s nauseating.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Rey nodded once. Better to let Leia speak her mind than hush her over imposing nature. As she said, she’s always been like this, why change now? “I see…I think I’m going to go ahead and check on him.”

Eyeing her all too knowingly, Leia hummed in acknowledgement, picking up one of Rey’s drafts for her memoir. “In that case, I’ll just do some light reading.”

Shaking her head good naturedly, Rey left the bed and made the short walk to the backyard.

While her master bedroom had been upstairs, Leia requested to be in the larger, first floor guest bedroom for her hospice. The lower bedroom made it easier to move around and it was across from the backyard access, allowing her to rest outside if she so desired. Ben mentioned it had once been his Uncle Luke’s bedroom when the house was first built. Separated enough from the rest of the rooms to give him some privacy, yet close enough to still join them in the living room when they decided to all watch a movie together, a once in a blue moon event.

Somehow it tragically made sense for Leia to spend her last days in the room her twin occupied.

Upon entering the hall, she saw Ben outside, with his back to the sliding door. The backyard light shined dully in the night, barely casting enough light to see out in the dark. In the dark, she watched as he scratched Kylo under the chin, the dog flopping to the ground for belly rubs at Ben’s loving touch.

Rey opened the sliding door, Ben not bothering to glance back.

“Did my mother send you?” he asked, still crouched beside the panting Kylo.

“No,” she told him, strolling over to stand to his left, “I decided to come on my own.” Without a second thought, she sat down on the damp, cool grass. She felt her jeans get soak slowly, but didn’t mind at the moment, preferring to sit than crouch. Holding her hand out to Kylo, he sniffed then licked her palm happily. “I just wanted to check on you. I know your mother can be overbearing sometimes.”

“Understatement of the century,” he muttered, shifting to sit as well. “I know she means well,” he started, before ducking his head away, “I just fucking hate how she needs to constantly put her nose into my business. And I shouldn’t be complaining because it wasn’t always like this.”

“When you weren’t talking to them?” Rey asked, already knowing the answer.

Swallowing tightly, Ben nodded and muttered a heavy, “yeah,” confirming Rey’s assumptions.

“Well…I am just out here to tell you, if you want me to go to this ‘formal’ thing,” she rolled her eyes, using his lame air quotes, “I’d be happy to be your co-chaperone.”

“Really?” he said teasing, eyes less water than a moment ago.

“Yup, you just need to ask in a proper way,” she said, bumping her shoulder with his, “I am a _lovely lady_ after all.”

“And what’s the proper way?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been to a dance.” She chuckled with a shrug.

He paused, staring at her with mild wonder. “You’ve seriously never went to a dance?”

“Nope,” she declared, popping the ‘p’. “Was never asked. Believe it or not, I was not the apple of anyone’s eye,” she told him, hoping she didn’t sound as pathetic as she felt. Recalling the memories of her high school years had a tendency to do such to her. “Invisible is a better way to put it.”

“I doubt that,” Ben stated quietly, “you being invisible? No…someone noticed you. Someone _always_ notices the smartest girl in class. High school guys are just wimps when it comes to those things.”

“Now you are just trying to flatter me.”

“No, I’ve seen my fair share of such instances this last year. Someone always notices the smartest girl,” he said confidently, glancing at her for a fleeting moment. “I would have noticed you if we went to high school together. Wouldn’t have talked to you, but I would have definitely noticed you—would have been that weird kid who sat in the back class, who everyone though was goth even though I have never worn eyeliner in my life.”

Rey snorted at the thought of a high school Ben crushing on a high school her. It was laughable, a cliché romance in the making. However she knew he younger self wouldn’t object to such a silly and frivolous thought.

Picking at the grass, she squinted up at Ben curiously. “What did happen at your winter formal?”

A heavy sigh escaped him as a flash of pain shadowed over his cringe. “Date ditched me the moment we got there, and I found her fucking some dude in the parking lot,” he answered stiltedly. “Apparently she only asked me out because her parents wanted her to go out with a ‘respectable boy,’ not her boyfriend.”

“Ouch,” Rey winced.

“Yeah,” Ben nodded slowly in agreement, “Amilyn found me crying and let me stay in her office for the rest of the evening until my parents could pick me up.”

“You cried?” Rey uttered in disbelief.

“I also maybe smashed her headlights with a baseball bat that night too,” he admitted with a budding grin.

“Okay, that sounds more like you,” Rey confessed, her chuckles coming through. “Did they press charges?”

“Nope—got away with it. She thought it was her ex-boyfriend—not the one she was fucking but a different one,” he explained, half-hearted laughter escaping him. “Looking back, it’s a little bit more funny but it really screwed me up…made me think no one wanted to actually date me for me.”

“I would’ve dated you,” Rey assured him, “if you know I wasn’t focused on school and getting into a good college and all that bullshit.”

“Thanks,” Ben mumbled, a side grin on his lips. “Nice to know I would have caught your attention no matter what.”

“Oh please,” she rolled her eyes, “let’s bring the ego back down to a nice humble four, mister.”

“Alright, alright,” he said with an endearingly shy chuckle. Turning to Rey, he grasped her hand within his own, squeezing lightly. His hand warmed her numbing fingers, she forgetting to grab her coat on her way out.

November had a way of surprising her with its weather—cool and brisk in the morning and day, subtle and occasionally numbing at night. Early November was no exception to these patterns.

Rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, Rey glanced back up at Ben with a small smile, feeling the air shift between them. All jokes and unfortunate memories were gone when he gazed at her with a hope she could never quiet comprehend. As though he could see more than just the girl before him, but a woman she was trying to be. And he liked both.

“Rey Kenobi,” he began, honey-brown eyes staring right back into her hazel, “would you do me the honor of being my co-chaperone at the winter formal?”

She grinned genuinely, not caring if she felt like a silly school girl for a moment.

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses more of Rey's effort to make progress. We'll see Mitaka and Kaydel in the next chapter! :D And we will be going to the Winter Formal next chapter too!
> 
> Furthermore, I always planned on Rey having anxiety, but it just being more on the aggressive and quiet sideof the spectrum. I think it's a misconception anxiety is random bursts of nervousness, panic attacks, or being jittery. Usually when someone has been subtly coping with it for a large portion of their lives, it is quiet (hence no one really noticing it) and it often comes out in fidgeting, lack of sleep, tense muscles, fatigue, and cyclical thinking. If you go back and reread the previous chapters, you might be able to catch signs of it.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)


	8. the inevitable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyyyyy….
> 
> I know. It's been a few weeks, but life and Stranger Things happened. 
> 
> And I avoided writing this chapter for the longest time. But it has to happen.
> 
> WARNING: A panic attack does occur in this chapter. And mind the tags.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later!
> 
> Enjoy :)

* * *

 

 

 

**1:05 AM**

 

 

From her spot in the waiting room, Rey glared at the clock on the wall.

They’d been sitting there for the last thirty minutes, waiting for the doctor to come out and say the inevitable.

To announce what they already knew the moment Ben received the call.

That didn’t stop Ben from pacing back and forth, running a hands through his hair until it stuck up in different directions, a pathetic mess.

His tie was already shucked off, Rey idlily folding and unfolding the periwinkle fabric as she watched Ben with exhausted eyes.

Everything had been going so well.

They were laughing, Ben was smiling, they even fucking danced to that stupid song…

Only for a phone call to shatter the illusion.

Now they were waiting.

And Ben was impatient—the most impatient mess if she’d ever seen one. She swore he’d mark the floor with his brisk and heavy steps, she forced to listen to the sharp squeak of his shoes at each pivot of his pace.

_“My son is many things, but patient isn’t one of them….Unless it’s something important, then my son will do his damn best to be patient because that is what is best.”_

Of course Leia’s words rang true in that moment, Rey feeling more than helpless in the situation. The best she could offer was her presence and a listening ear if Ben ever found the desire to talk.

Which was unlikely by the firm downturn of his mouth.

She needed something to drink.

 _Anything to drink_.

Just something to take her mind off—

Well _fuck_ she was supposed to be sober. And she was in damn hospital, with her boyfriend—also an alcoholic—attempting to be supportive in such shitty circumstances.

Maybe if she walked around enough, she’d find a vending or coffee machine.

Frustrated by her lack of control, Rey stood up from her seat, tying the tie around her wrist for safe keeping.

“What are you doing?” Ben asked as she brushed past him.

“Going to find coffee,” she answered, turning back to him wobbly in her heels. Why the hell did she allow Kaydel to convince her to wear the shoes, Rey would never know. She was just glad they were an inch and a half tall, and nothing to cause to tumble to the floor.

“Just,” he waved to the empty chairs, “just stay here. And don’t move,” he grumbled, arms crossed over his chest.

“I can’t just sit,” she argued, “I need to do something—”

“And I need you to just sit and not move and just be there, okay?” he countered, his eyes more wild than warm. He ran a hand over his face, dropping his voice. “I just…can’t be here alone when they come back with—I just can’t.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, Ben rubbing his clammy palms on his suit jacket. He was a nervous wreck, on the verge of breaking if prompted.

“Okay,” she came closer, resting her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look down at her, “then I’ll stay— _you_ just need to calm down and breathe a little.”

He nodded mutely, though the tension in his neck did not lessen.

“I’ll be with you the entire time, okay?” she urged his to respond, messaging small circles into his shoulder blades. “I’ll even hold your hand, okay?”

“Okay,” he breathed, dropping his head into the crook her neck. In short inhales and exhales tickled her skin, nothing joyful at the sensation. Simply a bitter weight of hanging in the back of her throat as she felt him cave further into her hold.

Closing her eyes, Rey held him close and waited, hoping her affections were enough to keep him from slipping away into his own mind.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Seventeen Hours Earlier…**

 

 

“So it’s a date?”

“ _No_.” Rey shrugged. Hesitance flashed across her face. “Maybe?” Groaning, she flopped sideways on the sofa. “I don’t know! He asked me to be his ‘co-chaperone’! He said we weren’t going to be slow dancing to ‘Here Without You’ by 3 Doors Down!”

“That’s a weirdly specific song,” Dr. Andor commented with a confused frown.

Rey shot back up. “ _Right_?” Thank goodness she wasn’t the only one who noticed that.

“Maybe that was his way of asking you out,” Dr. Andor suggested, “And yeah, you’ll both technically be working, but it’ll be nice for you two to spend time with each other outside this sphere,” he gestured in the air around them, “of self-care and wellness. Not to mention being with each other outside of his mother’s or your shared friends’.”

“We hang out just the two of us,” Rey quickly amended, “and we go out to eat just the two of us…sometimes.”

“Ah,” Dr. Andor nodded with immediate understanding. “Then maybe you two need this, even if it is not an official date.” He picked up his coffee, taking a thoughtful sip. “My advice would be to just enjoy it.”

“Right,” Rey said, nodding furiously, “right. Enjoy it. Don’t over think it. It’s Ben.”

“Right,” Dr. Andor reaffirmed. “Just have fun—it’s a school dance. Not as much craziness goes down as movies like you to think. Most of the time kids just dance and then leave.”

Releasing a shaky exhale, Rey was relieved by his words. “Okay…okay. I can _totally_ be a chaperone at a dance.”

“ _Good_ ,” he said with sureness, before becoming serious once more, “Now let’s address the obvious—when I said you can stop by in case of an _emergency_ that was not an open invitation for an impromptu session in my living room at seven-fifteen in the morning.”

Glancing around the room, Rey sunk further into the microfiber sofa. “But your wife was so kind to let me in…” she peeked over to where Jyn sat at the breakfast nook, sipping her own morning coffee while reading the news off her tablet. She gave the kind woman a little wave, Jyn returning it with a smile and good-natured eyeroll. “See? She likes me.”

“It has nothing to do with liking you,” Dr. Andor’s voice droned. “It has everything to do with privacy.”

Rey winced, sucking in a harsh breath as her face scrunched. “Isn’t this a bit of the pot calling the kettle black?”

“She’s got one on you there, babe,” Jyn called out, not bothering to glance up at them as she swiped to another article.

Groaning into his hand, Dr. Andor pushed up his glasses—Rey was still getting over the shock of _that_ revelation—glaring with mild heat towards his wife. “Jyn you are not helping.”

His wife ignored him, turning back to Rey with a pleasant smile. “Rey, would you like to stay for breakfast? I have an omelet casserole in the oven.”

“I’d love to!” she declared, shoving her smugness in Dr. Andor’s face. “Thank you, Dr. Erso.”

“Please call me, Jyn,” the other woman assured her. “Isn’t that right, Cassian?” she addressed her husband over her glasses, “No formalities in our house?”

The man exhaled through his nose, remaining in his seat. “Yes, dear.”

Rey could not hide her budding grin at the sight.

Briefly, she wondered if this was what marriage was like, or if Jyn and Cassian were the lucky ones.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**1:25 AM**

 

 

“Why the hell was she even upstairs?” Ben mumbled into his hand. His chin was stubbornly propped in his palm, watching the doors leading to the operation rooms like a hawk. Despite their intertwined hands resting in his thigh, he leaned the furthest he could away from her. “Everything she could possibly need was within her reach.”

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Rey shrugged, hoping she didn’t look as helpless as she felt. She grasped his hand tighter. “I don’t know,” she said, “but all we can do is hope for the best.”

“‘Hope for the best?’” he echoed. An empty laugh came through his nose as he rubbed his mouth with the back of his wrist, as though restraining a part of himself from her. Possibly hiding the depths of how he felt for her sake, for their relationship’s sake. “Rey,” he began, his voice cracking halfway through her name, “she has cancer. Her immune system is shit. We’re lucky if doctors can do anything at all.”

“Right,” she uttered, refusing to release his hand despite his growing lack of grip. “What do I know, its not like the same thing happened to my grandfather.”

“It’s not the same.” He griped, the veins on his neck protruding for a faint moment as a flash of anger over took him. “She’s sick—she knew better than to roam upstairs—”

“And my grandfather knew better, yet he still refused to move and let go of the damn place.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she could still see her grandfather climbing up the stairs, ignoring her calls for him to be careful.”

He only went upstairs because his personal library resided on the second floor. Ages ago she suggested—more so demanded—he move his collection into his bedroom with him for easier access. However the old damn bastard refused, preferring to climb up to the second floor on his own to retrieve his favorite novels. For as long as Rey could remember, his library had remained the same; same room, same dull leather armchair, same impossibly tall shelves. She had to use a rickety stepping stole to het to the top shelves, some of her grandfather’s prized books place far out of her reach.

“Maybe she left something important up there,” Rey suggested, “She lived there for a long time…maybe she remembered something she needed.”

“Well then why couldn’t she have waited for one of us to get home?”

“Privacy?”

Ben didn’t give a snarky nor grumpy remark back.

“I just know…” he shook his head, hunching forward in his seat, “this is going to do it. The final nail in the coffin, no pun intended.”

“You don’t—”

“No, I know. She’s been on her last couple of weeks—this…” he scrubbed his face with his free hand, unable to finish his sentence. “ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered, “I’m gonna need to call…I don’t know. There is no one to fucking call but myself and I am already here—”

“Ben, you don’t even know what the extent of her condition is yet,” Rey interjected before he could spiral further. “Let’s not jump into anything without  knowing all the details.”

She didn’t dare say she agreed with his assessments concerning Leia—he didn’t need to know what she thought in this instance. She simply needed him the breathe and wait until the doctors came back with the prognosis—to know whether or not his mother made it.

“I do not like waiting.”

“I know you don’t.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Eleven Hours Earlier…**

 

“I am so glad I decided to just bring everything I found!” Kaydel shouted through Rey’s bedroom door.

From the slim crack under the door, the other woman’s shadow paced back and forth. Whether she showed it or not, Kaydel was nervous for Rey, but all for the right reasons. Her friend nearly blew a gasket when she discovered Rey had never been to a school dance nor has she ever been a chaperone.

 

_“The chaperone part is easy. It’s just like watching Mitaka!”_

_“You guys don’t watch over me like some baby! I am a friend,” the boy argued fiercely. “A friend; we hang out. That is what friends do.”_

_“Yeah,_ sure _, kiddo.”_

Naturally, Kaydel insisted on helping Rey get ready, wanting her to look her absolute best for her first—and probably only—dance. Unless Ben, of course, asked her to be a chaperone with him again for the next one…but that was thinking ahead. And Rey was attempting to live in the present, not so much the future or the past, despite her anxiety begging her to do the opposite. While the idea of becoming Kaydel’s doll for the afternoon was not the most appealing idea, Rey knew her friend’s excitement and intervention was coming from a good place.

It was just odd to have a female friend who enjoyed dressing up and makeovers. Rey was simple accustomed to doing such frivolous activities by herself.

It was sort of…dare she think… _nice_.

“I only wish you would have told me you were having trouble picking a dress sooner—ya know, not the _day of_.” Rey rolled her eyes at the complaint, slipping her arms through the thin strap. Stretching her arm back at an awkward angle, Rey caught the tip of the zipper, getting the back of the dress mostly closed, except for the very top.

As she adjusted the smooth fabric around her waist, Rey opened the door for an ever eager Kaydel.

Her friend’s eyes widened at the sight of her.

No words spoken.

Just staring silence.

It was almost comical considering how Kaydel always seemed to have compliment waiting whenever she saw anyone she adored.

Clearly, that wasn’t the case this instance.

 _Well, shit_. Rey didn’t know the reaction to her in a dress would be that _awful_. The silence reminded Rey why she didn’t dress up or think to hard about her outfits, too self-conscious she’d end up looking ridiculous or trying to hard. Yes, she collected pretty things, the little girl inside of her snatching up those soft lace blouses and pastel skirts whenever she saw them. But they were hardly ever worn due to her own sabotage. Woefully, Rey preferred the gentle and delicate clothes placed safely on a hanger than on her own frame.

Another second passed.

Rey squirmed, ready to rip the dress off and throw into the depths of her closet to never be seen again. To allow the gorgeous tea length, periwinkle dress sit amongst all her other unworn clothes to be a relic of what could have been.

“Is it that bad?”

“No!” Kaydel yelped, a large grin replacing her stunned expression. “You just look _amazing_ —I was surprised!” She then cringed. “I didn’t mean it that way—I just mean, you never wear dresses or really anything flattering, actually.”

“Gee, thanks,” Rey quipped with a self-deprecating smirk.

“Not that you look bad all the time because you do have nice clothes and pieces, you just don’t know how to wear them to your benefit.”

“I’d stop now before you dig yourself deeper,” Rey suggested with a slight tease in her voice.

“Right,” Kaydel said with a chuckle before marching right into the room. “Have you seen yourself?”

“No—”

“Perfect,” she declared, dropping her purse and tote bag on Rey’s bed, “because I think you deserve to see yourself in complete hair and make-up before you decide against this dress— _like all the other ones_.”

Rey had the decency to appear apologetic at the correct accusation. Kaydel brought at least five dresses with her, Rey vetoing two before she even attempted to try them on. The long red gown seemed too flashy in her opinion, Kaydel wincing in agreement—after all she was to look nice, but also fade into the background as a chaperone. The second dress had a faint trace of glitter in the fabric, the whimsical touch simply not appealing to Rey. Kaydel had been _lucky_ to convince Rey to try on the other three, let along pick one altogether.

“You don’t need to do all that,” Rey insisted, “I can do my own make-up—”

“No, no, no,” Kaydel shushed her, manhandling Rey to sit on the edge of the bed, “I’m going to do your hair and make-up because this is what friends do!”

“Really it’s not—”

“If you come up with another excuse, I will purposely poke you in the eye with my eyeliner!”

Said eyeliner was shoved into Rey’s face, she fulling believing the threat made upon her. With little comment, Rey snapped her mouth shut, allowing Kaydel to get to work. With flourish, she draped a robe on Rey’s front to protect the dress.

Pursing her lips, she turned back to Rey seriously. “Do you own contacts?”

“Yes but—”

Instantly the glasses were plucked from her face and placed out of her reach on her desk. “You are wearing them tonight because while I am sure Ben likes to nerd girl look, _Rey_ deserves to look like the classiest lady out there—got to make the outside look like the inside.”

With those words she went about raiding Rey’s rarely used make-up, a genuine gleam shining in Kaydel’s eyes as she set about finding the perfect eyeshadows and lipsticks.

Rey’s nervousness from that morning slowly melted into bubbling excitement.

Maybe for once she could just let herself live a little, that night the perfect opportunity to start doing so.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**1:35 AM**

** Finn **

**Are you coming home tonight?**

** Finn **

**Or is Mr. Tall-Dark-With-Anger-Issues going to ravish you? ;)**

Rey rolled her eyes at the message, swiping it up before Ben could peek over. His eyes were closed, though she knew for a fact he wasn’t asleep. He randomly complained or worried, Rey his soundboard for venting. Not that she was bothered by this, simply listening as best she could without trying off some solution or unnecessary comment.

 

**_ Rey _ **

**_Um. Might not come home._ **

**_But not because of what you think._ **

****

** Finn **

**WHAT HAPPENED**

**CALL ME**

**_ Rey _ **

**_I cant call at the moment._ **

**_I promise I’ll explain later._ **

**_But don’t worry—I am alright. Ben is alright._ **

**_Just a pretty awful situation._ **

****

** Finn **

**Okay…just call me if either of you need anything.**

**Seriously.**

**_ Rey _ **

**_Thanks._ **

 

After she sent the text, she tucked her phone back into her purse, hoping Finn wouldn’t worry himself sick. He cared a little too much for her comfort, both his winning and detrimental quality in their friendship. However it was nothing she could control, no matter how often she tried.

Sighing deeply, she started to pick at the blush pink polish on her nails.

 

_“Do you do that a lot?” Dr. Andor asked, motioning to her hands._

_“Yeah.”_

_“For how long?”_

_“I use to be a nail bitter,” she said instead, “thought picking at my nail polish would be a better option.”_

_“You didn’t answer the question,” he pointed out, though did not press the matter of her nails again._

 

“Can you please stop that?” Ben mumbled, peaking at her from the corner of his eyes. She knew he was talking about her picking. “It’s a bad habit.”

“I know.”

“Yet you still do it.”

“Without thinking," she countered.

“You’re making a pile of little nail polish shavings on the floor.”

“Yeah, that kind of happens,” she gritted out, exhaling through her nose.

“Just…” His hand rested on top of hers, stopping her mindless frantic action. Her hands stilled, his palm practically swallowing hers with ease. There wasn’t a grip in the movement, his hand merely a visual barrier. “…just stop, please?” he asked gently.

Lifting her gaze, she noticed his eyes had finally left the doors and were now locked on her.

Guilt gnawed at her gut; she was supposed to be the emotional supportive girlfriend, not the basketcase pulling away his focus. The focus he needed to have on his mother, not her.

Definitely not her.

Why the fuck was she even here?

Ben was a closed off neurotic and a stubborn asshole to boot. Ignoring her only to say something to beg for her attention. Pacing, then sitting only to pace again. He vocalized his worst worries because there was nothing else he could do _but_ say them. She couldn’t reassure him because he’d counter claiming she was only trying to comfort him, something he both _wanted_ and apparently _did not_ want.

She couldn’t provide the support he needed no matter how hard she tried, saying stupid shit—comparing her own experience with her grandfather to their current situation. Her mind couldn’t help it—the last time she was in the damn waiting room, she was waiting to hear if her grandfather would need a hip replacement, stupidly the worst thing she thought could happen to him from taking a fall down the stairs.

In her mind, Benjamin Kenobi was a vampire. Ever living despite his age and looking the same for numerous years until he hit his seventies and suddenly everyone realized he was an _old man_ who needed to watch his health and monitor his activities. Well, everyone realized it, except for him.

In a way he was invincible.

Until he wasn’t.

That night, Rey didn’t expect to be told her grandfather broke his ribs, punctured a lung, and had fallen into cardiac arrest because he was found too late.

Found too late by her.

Because for once she didn’t follow their usual schedule.

Instead she was at a meeting.

A meeting with an editor who wanted to publish _her_ —not someone she was writing for or anyone else, but her—who wanted publish _her_ manuscript she’d been working on for a few years because somehow the stars aligned right, her hard work and patience paying off.

For goddamn once she was doing something she wanted.

And look where it fucking got her.

A dead grandfather.

A lonely life.

Goddamn fucking depression.

Alcoholism.

She lost everything because she decide to live her life, and some how the same shitty thing was happening all over again, except some how it felt ten times worse because she had to watch the man she loved go through it while she sat helplessly.

“I need to go.”

The words came from her. Yet she didn’t feel her mouth move.

“What?”

“I…I need to go.”

“Rey, if it was something I said—”

Rey snatched her hand away from him.

Hurt flashed across Ben’s face.

“I need to go,” she swallowed, “I—I’ll be back—I just need—” A wave of heat crashed over her face, the room feeling too warm and the air in her lungs too tight. “Go—I need to go.”

She was faintly aware Ben was speaking to her, the low rumble of his voice near her ear. However, she simply focused on breathing and leaving—breathing and leaving. Squirming out of his arms— _when was he holding her? She didn’t remember being in his embrace; she’d remember that_ —she rushed out of the waiting area.

Wobbling on her heels, she marched through the hall, ignoring the concerned glances sent her way. Upon seeing a patio entrance, she took it as her exit.

Cool air slapped her face, the November chill welcoming despite its ferocity. The numbing buzz in her body was shivering to a stop as she blinked out into the inky black-blue sky.

Inhale— _Exhale_.

She squinted. No stars were visible.

Not a single one.

Just the city lights echoing as imposters. In her vision the kaleidoscope of lights stretched and tightened, waving hello from their distance. Briefly, she wondered how the sky _would_ look with stars. She had memories of sitting outside, looking up at a star filled sky. Though now she wasn’t too sure if these were true or a figment of her imagination; she lived in town with her grandfather for the majority of her life. She didn’t know much else.

Licking her lips she tasted the salt of her tears, she barely aware of the sting behind her eyes.

Right _contacts_. She was wearing contacts. Because Kaydel all but demanded otherwise. Rey would have to take them out and trade them for her glasses before she went back into the waiting room. It’d give her an excuse for taking her time.

Shakily, she took a seat on one of the metal chairs on the patio. And she waited.

Waited until she could breathe soundly again.

Waited until her eyes didn’t sting anymore.

And waiting until she didn’t relieve that night ever goddamn time she thought of that waiting room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Nine Hours Earlier…**

The train ride to Leia’s felt inexplicably longer than usual. Rey chalked it up to be due to the fact Ben was due to pick her up in a little over an hour. Another part of her knew it was nerves—Leia asked her to come over before the formal. The older woman claimed it to be because she had something to give her, though Rey couldn’t think of what.

Digging through her purse—a little beaded vintage handbag Kaydel shoved into her arms before she could argue—Rey found her keys and unlocked the front door.

From down the hall Kylo came dashing over with a gleeful yelp. Quickly, she crouched down to catch him before he could attempt to jump on her.

“Whoa boy, slow down,” she patted down his messy mane, pressing a light kiss to his head. “I’m happy to see you too,” she cooed, her initial worries rolling away as Kylo lathered her with love.

A shuffle from down the hall caught her attention, Leia emerging from her doorway moments later, her cane in hand. “I thought it was you,” she greeted, a tired grin on her lips, “Figured you take the afternoon route.”

“I thought I should get here sooner rather than later,” Rey explained with a small shrug. “I already called Ben to let him know to just pick me up here.”

“Perfect, that means I can get photos of you two before you take off.” Leaning heavily on her cane, she motioned for Rey to stand. “Now let me see how you look without a dog slobbering all over you.”

Rising up from her crouch, Rey readjusted her dress and hair, hoping she hadn’t already ruined Kaydel’s handiwork.

The tiny gasp from Leia ceased all ill thoughts.

“My dear, you look absolutely beautiful.” Her words rang in the silence, her usually exhausted voice became alight with new energy.

Rey’s throat constricted at the compliment, finding herself rendered speechless by Leia’s fond, proud gaze. She’d always seen Ben the subject of pride in his mother’s honey-brown eyes, though never did Rey think she’d be on the receiving end.

Stepping forward, Leia gestured Rey to come closer before coaxing her into a fierce hug. A stuttered breath escaped Rey, she returning the embrace with just as much conviction, if not more. Leia’s grip was shaky, yet stern. She ignored her own struggle—to breathe, the move, to speak—to hug Rey. Arms frail and weak, though unrelenting despite.

Resting her chin on Leia’s shoulder, Rey inhaled deeply, committing this moment to memory. The smell of Leia’s lavender soap, the soft brush of her blue knitted cap, the glint of her silver and pearl earrings in the dim hall light.

A faint sniffle came from Leia as she pulled away, her smile brightening her entire face.

Is this how mothers reacted at the sight of their daughters dolled up for formals and dances? Overwhelmed with wordless emotions only watery smiles and air constricting hugs could convey? If so, Rey suddenly felt she missed out on more than dressing up for some silly dance…she felt she missed out on an experience, a stepping stone in her adolescence.

“Oh dear,” Leia huffed, one of her hands flying up to Rey’s hair, “your curls are loosing their bounce.”

“That,” Rey mumbled with an eyeroll, “it happens all the time. My hair can’t seem to ever hold the curl.”

“Well you can’t go to the dance like with your hair like that,” the older woman tsked. Using Rey’s arm to steady herself, Leia grabbed her cane and led the way back to her room. “We need to fix this before my son comes.”

Upon entering her bedroom, Leia motioned for Rey to take seat on the ottoman beside the bed. While it had been usually set there for Kylo to step up on to the mattress rather than jump, it often became an impromptu chair for Rey or Ben whenever Leia called them over to her.

Following Leia’s orders, Rey sat down after the older woman situated herself on the edge of the bed. From her bedside table, she pulled out a hand mirror and ornate wide-tooth hair comb. The silver items glistened under the light of the room, the delicate pattern of roses and lilies embedded in the curve of the metal. Leia handled the pieces with great practice and care, a hint of bittersweet nostalgia shining in her eyes.

“These were once my mother’s, she having them passed down to her from my grandmother,” Leia explained, catching Rey curious stare. “I once used these every day.”

“What happened—what made you stop?”

“Chemo,” was her simple yet weighty answer. Lifting the comb, she gently carded through Rey’s hickory brown locks. “I could comb my wigs, but it’s not the same.” Going through another stroke, she sighed serenely. “It’s not the same as combing real hair.”

Biting her lips together, Rey considered her next question, not wanting to offend or trigger Leia’s sensibilities. “How…how long was your hair before?”

“When I was about your age it rested roughly around my waist,” she explained, wistful. Glancing to her left, Rey noticed the picture frame sitting tucked in the corner. A younger Leia, her hair piled on her head in an intricate braid, and a young smoldering man. The smirk and air of confidence in the man’s posture instantly told Rey the man was Ben’s father. “And then _Ben_ happened.” Rey chuckled at Leia’s aggravated groan, perking up at the mention of the woman’s son. “He was a grabby and fidgety child, I had no choice but to cut it all off.”

“What?” Rey exclaimed, “you cut all your hair off?” The though seemed unimaginable. All the pictures of Leia in the house included her with at least shoulder length hair, most from her younger years and a few recent ones from the last decade, where her hair was pulled into a professional updo.

“Just a fun pixie cut for a couple of years until Ben was out of his terrible twos,” Leia said with a chuckle. “My husband liked my long hair too much to let it last long, and I liked my doing my in braids too much to leave it short.”

Separating her hair into two sections, Leia began to braid Rey’s hair, her nimble hands moving slowly and purposefully.

“What was Ben’s dad like?” Rey asked, this one of the few times Leia mentioned her husband outside of her writing.

A beguiled huff came from the woman, she pausing her movements. “Han was…he was my perfect match and my worst enemy. I loved and despised that man with every fiber of my being.” Rey could feel the love and deep sorrow in Leia’s voice, a quaking quality to her tone. “We knocked heads more often than most, but I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.” A piece of hair flopped in Rey’s face, Leia swiping back a moment later as she intertwined two sections. “Ben might say otherwise, but Han loved his family more than anything…he loved us so much he sometimes did idiotic things thinking it was for best, but…” she shook her head. “But hey, he was _my_ idiot. That’s what I can say about him.”

And once again, Han Solo continued to remain a twofold mystery. A man loved by both his wife and son, yet the amount of grief over his actions during his life seemed to continue long after his death. Leia spoke high of him, though her undertones of aggravation did not slip past Rey. Ben on the other hand…he only referred to his father in passing. His father left him his car. His father taught him how to drive, how to smuggle candy into a movie theatre, how to break a lock.

Oddly, it seemed Ben spoke more of his father in connection to his childhood, rather than his mother. Han Solo appeared to be a looming, never ending presence in Ben’s life while Leia…Leia appeared to be here and there. Here one moment, was there at another. Inconsistent until later life.

Rey was unsure what to make of this observation, simply locking it away as a conversation for another day.

Another twist and pull occurred, before Rey felt the distinct snap of a rubber band.

“There. All done,” Leia announced, holding out the hand mirror to Rey.

Hesitantly, she lifted the mirror, expecting some intricate mess she’d never be able to pull apart.

Instead, her hair was pulled into a soft waterfall braid. The remaining curls tumbled down to her shoulders in wavy layers, darker shades bouncing together with the lighter brown at the tips of her locks. A simple yet elegant braid sat as a delicate crown, beginning from her temples to the back of her head where the hair was twisted together in a loose bun.

“Do you like it?” Leia asked, setting her comb back into her bedside drawer.

“I love it,” Rey confessed, glancing back in the mirror. “I never thought my hair could look this way. I feel pretty bad for always throwing it up in half up bun.”

Leia waved her off. “All of us have been there,” she assured her, fluffing the ends of Rey’s hair. “Sometimes it just takes some time and a little helping hand to show the possibilities.”

“Thank you, again. You didn’t have to do this.”

“No thank _you_ ,” Leia pressed a kiss to her temple, “you let this old lady play with your hair. You have no idea what that means to me, Rey.”

Placing the mirror on the bedside table, Rey peaked back up at Leia, eyebrows furrowed. “Not that I don’t love the impromptu hair styling, but what was it you wanted me here for?”

Leia perked right back up, wiping away any lingering tears from the corner of her eyes. “Right— _right_ ,” shakily, she stood back up. Rey followed after her, offering her arm, only for Leia to shoo her away. “It’s just right over here,” she waved to the dresser less than five feet away. Once making her way to her destination, Leia opened the top drawer and pulled out a circular jewelry box. “Now I am not too sure if you had jewelry for tonight, but I thought if you were interested, you could pick what you want.”

Rey gapped at the box presented her, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides.

This…this was _a lot_.

“Um—Leia, I can’t,” she stuttered out. “You’ve already done so much.”

“Oh, please,” the older woman shook her head, unamused, “stop with the refusals and the gratitude. I haven’t worn these in ages and I don’t have daughter or granddaughter to pass any of this down to,” she held out the box closer to Rey, “I have no one to give this to, but _you_ , dear.”

Well when she put it that way… _fuck it_.

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Rey took the box, feeling undeserving of such a gift.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**1: 45 AM**

“If you wanted to run away, you should have picked a different floor.” The door’s gasp announced Ben’s presence. She heard his footsteps echo across the patio, each step gradual and measured. “Not, you know, the first public door you could find.”

He stopped beside her, his thigh eyelevel with her peripheral.

An eerie and scathing screech came from the chair’s legs as Ben pulled it over, the metal skidding aggressively against the concrete.

He sat on the edge of the chair. Not looking at her or his lap, he just stared out into the city lights, just as she did moments ago.

“I’m a shit girlfriend.”

“I knew that would be the case when I asked you.”

“ _Hm_ ,” Rey scoffed, scrubbing at her nose. Her hand dropped pathetically back on her lap. “You should be inside. Waiting to hear news.”

“I can prolong the inevitable,” he argued, rolling his shoulders as he leaned further back into the chair. “Doctors can’t tell anyone else the news except for me. I’m her only living kin.”

“True.” She pursed her lips, licking the underside of her upper lip. She could taste the dried lipstick, it flaking and caky. She never reapplied per Kaydel’s orders, too preoccupied with other matters to think to do so.

Ben squinted at her before shaking his head, bemused. “The last time I was here it was because my uncle died of a heart attack.”

“Well, shit.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, reclining as far back as he could, kicking out his legs. “Hated the guy for stupid reasons, but still cried and yelled in the waiting room.” His head lulled all the way back, he looking up at the empty sky. “He was still my uncle after all the stupid shit he pulled with me. And I cared…I cared too fucking much what he thought so it hurt when he passed.”

Rey didn’t speak, not knowing how to respond to his uncle’s death. Did Ben want her to feel sorry for him? Because she did pity him, though it was a given considering their situations.

“Then before that, it was my dad.”

“Right.”

“And that was a car crash.” His hands intertwined on his chest, thrumming unrhythmically on his sternum. _Thumpiedy, thump, thump, thumpiedy, thumpiedy, thump_. “I was in the car with him. Just had to get stitches, right here,” he pointed to faint scar on the right side of his face, a line bisecting his cheek. A scar she noticed but never found the reason to ask the origin. She had her fair share of scars from reckless and mundane endeavors, most involving books falling from high places. Asking about it felt intrusive. But now she knew. “Had to sit in that waiting room as they performed surgery. He lived long enough to suffer internal bleeding and died over night.”

His blunt and scathing voice did little to comfort her.

“How can you say all this with a straight face?” she interjected before he could go into more detail. “How can you talk about their deaths like it’s discussing the weather?”

Silence fell over the two for a moment.

Then he released a heavy exhale.

“Because those nights play over and over in my mind for months,” he spoke earnestly, the surest he ever sounded since she met him. “I relive those moments every time I close my eyes. I couldn’t sleep for over year—even now I can barely sleep—because all I can think about is them and what I could have done differently.”

“But you couldn’t have done anything differently,” Rey countered automatically. “There is nothing you could have done to stop the car crash or your uncle’s heart attack.”

Ben turned his head to her, his sharp tone forgotten under the gaze of his warm and affectionate honey-brown eyes. “Exactly—that’s why you need to stop beating yourself up over your grandfather’s death.”

His words slapped her with acute truth, the wind knocked out of her.

“I don’t—”

“We promised each other we wouldn’t lie,” he broke through her attempt of an excuse. “So don’t back track on that now.”

“Well, what the fuck do you want me to say?” she shot back, letting her frustration over her own reactions over ride her emotions. “That I feel like shit all the time because it’s my fault that he is dead? Well sorry, I can’t do that. Because sometimes we have to act like we are okay, so at some point it can become the truth. Not all of us can wear our pain like a badge of honor.”

“It’s not your fault, Rey.”

 _“Yes, it is!”_ she cried out, fresh tears sprouting in a vengeance. “It _is_ my fault. I got to him too late—that is what I was told by the nurses, by the doctors, by fucking everyone. If someone found him fifteen—even _ten minutes_ sooner, he’d still be alive!”

“But that’s not how it works—you just said so yourself. We have no control over these matters—”

“But I did! I went against our normal schedule—I didn’t call him to let him know,” she explained in rushed, her words sputtering. “I could have done things differently!”

“No, you couldn’t have,” Ben gritted out, no longer casually lounging but sitting up in his seat. His hands gripped the metal armrests until his knuckles turned white, he staring long and hard into her eyes. “You’re still holding on to what you could have done— _that’s your problem_. That’s why you are miserable! You can’t fucking let go.”

Her vision blurred as she matched his gaze, unable to stop her salty tears as they ran down her face. His face became like the stars from earlier—stretching and fuzzy around the edges. Yet Ben wasn’t an imposter—he was becoming more and more exceptionally real as the days passed. Part of Rey wished it were the opposite, where he increasingly became a man she no longer recognized rather than one she felt was akin to her own image.

Neither were apologetic over their exchange, nor did they say another word.

Rey broke eye contact first, being the only one brave enough to end the silent conversation. They both sat back in their cold metal chairs, looking up at the starless sky.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Eight Hours Earlier…**

“You look…”

“I know it’s a bit much—”

“ _Beautiful_ ,” he breathed, honey-brown eyes locked on her. Capturing her in the moment, never letting her go if he so wished. Stepping further into the house, Ben’s gaze rooted her into her spot, she feeling her own lips upturn at the sight of his boyish smile.

In a silly spike of emotions, Rey’s heart stuttered, a flutter surging from her gut to the back of her throat.

“Uh, thank you,” she said, feeling the flush rising to her cheeks. “You look incredibly handsome yourself.”

He ducked his head at the compliment, combing his fingers through his dark tousled hair. Before her, he stood freshly shaven, the scruff building up on his chin and upper lip gone. A hint of eucalyptus and spearmint linger on and around him, a comforting and invigorating scent Rey found herself discreetly inhaling. The black suit elongated his frame, Ben seemingly taller than his six-foot-two height. His tie remained the pop of color in his entire ensemble, the shade distinctly lighter than the rest and—

“Your tie matches my dress!” Rey pointed out gleefully, in awe of the near perfect match of periwinkle.

“Yeah, Kaydel sent me a picture of your dress and I thought it would be nice if we matched,” he mumbled, acting as though the simple act were nothing to fuss over.

However, Rey thought contrary. “I love it, Ben. It is truly wonderful—like a _real_ dance!”

“Because it _is_ a real dance.”

“For the kids, not for us,” she reminded him with half shrug.

“Doesn’t mean it’s any less real.”

“True,” she hummed in agreement, tucking a loose hair back behind her ear. Biting her lip, she nodded back to the living room. “Do want to take pictures? Leia mentioned how you never got pictures from your formal. I thought taking one together would be nice,” she said, her little suggestion on the verge of becoming a full on ramble.

Thankfully, Ben seemed keen on the idea as well.

“Of course, but first—” He held a finger up in wait, reaching into his satchel. A second later he revealed a small, clear plastic box with a flower inside. “—a corsage.”

“A _what_?” Rey blinked down at the puff of a flower. It was white with a periwinkle ribbon attached to the steam, little spurts of baby’s breath surrounding the center carnation.

Chucking at her confusion, Ben quickly removed the flower from the box. Gently he grasped her left hand, his thumb brushing against her knuckles before delicately sliding the corsage on her wrist. “It’s like a bracelet,” Ben explained, tying off the periwinkle ribbon with clumsy, large fingers. “Most girls wear them for formal occasions—you’ll see a bunch of them tonight.”

“A carnation—at least it doesn’t look like a dick this time,” she muttered, mouth edging into a teasing smirk.

A poorly held back snort broke through Ben, he unable to stop smiling once he started. “I specifically asked for non-dick shaped carnations, just for _you_ , Rey.”

“Because _so_ many carnations look like dicks.”

“Exactly.”

Finishing his work, he intertwined their fingers with a light squeeze.

Just as she leaned for a kiss, a bright flash caused them to flinch.

“ _Ow-uh_ —Mom!” Ben scrubbed his eyes petulantly, “Seriously, you could have warned us.”

Leia tsked, sharing an exasperated glance with Kylo. “Sure and have it looked staged? I think not.” She glanced back down at her phone, humming in approval. “That one’s a keeper. I’ll be sure to send it to you two.”

“Yes please,” Rey said, earning a less than pleased look from Ben, “I’d like to have at least one photo of us, we have none thus far. Is that so much to ask?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” he mumbled, “we can take a few more if you’d like.”

“Perfect,” Leia grinned, motioning them closer together. “Be sure to credit me on the Instagrams and whatnot—and tell everyone it was me who took these in your wedding slide show.”

“Mom!”

“I’m _kidding_.”

Ben scoffed, wrapping an arm around Rey’s waist for the picture. “No, you’re not.”

“I know—I’m _not_ ,” she chuckled, “Now smile before my arms get too tired!”

 

* * *

 

 

 

**2:15 AM**

Eventually the inevitable came—the inevitable Ben wouldn’t shut up about, the one he spoke into existence enough times for it to remain true despite hope.

“Family of Leia Organa?”

Ben lifted his gaze from his and Rey’s intertwined hands.

Not necessarily forgiveness, but an anchor. Someone sitting next to him in the waiting room, to be the reality to clutch for dear life when the wave of horror came over his head.

Probably not his first option if anything moments before suggested.

Yet she was there, the only one there and Ben needed her.

“ _Yes_ ,” Ben uttered, voice low.

“We did everything we could, but her body just couldn’t take the strain,” the words were apologetic, though scathingly honest, “I regret to inform you, she didn’t make it.”

Biting his lips together, Ben nodded silently— once, twice, then three times. A visible swallow bobbed down his neck, the rim of his eyes shining a painful red as tears stubbornly remained at bay.

Exhaling sharply though his nose, he clutched her hand closer to his chest. The thumping of his heart vibrated against her hand, Rey’s own pulse following the rhythm his set. A heart pulsing in melancholy harmony.

Bending down, he brushing his lips against her knuckles. A smeared kiss, a slopping skin to skin. An effort to feel…

A shuddering, noiseless sob reverberated through him.

Gradually, he began to crumpled in on himself—yet Rey refused to let him fall on his own. With all her strength, she wrapped her arms around him and held him against her chest. A far to large man held together by a slip of a woman who could barely keep her own visage from cracking.

He did not return the embrace, merely plummeting into her comforting gravity.

“You…You’re not alone,” she murmured against his hair, “I promise, you are not alone. I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sadness is about to ensue :( And important things were planted/mentioned in this chapter, so keep an eye out....
> 
> Also, some of you are probably thinking--"Wait, we didn't see any of the dance!"  
> And dear reader, that was the point. We'll know what happens at the dance later, but it is not vital to the story at this point. Rey starting to confront what happened to her grandfather and her guilt was the main focus :)
> 
> Don't worry, Rey and Ben will eventually dance to 3 Doors Down's "Here Without You" ;)
> 
> Overall, this one was a tough one and I am still not entirely pleased with it, but I think this is the best it will get :/
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers :D


	9. he has his moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT AN UPDATE SO SOON?
> 
> Yes, because the goal is to finish this fic in the next week or two. We are almost there, which is insane to think about.
> 
> I'm slowly replying to comments from the previous chapter (which I know I've been pretty lousy about with this fic) and I'd like to say from the bottom of my heart, thank you! Thank you to everyone who has loved this story and for sharing your own experiences. With this little story I feel we have created a little safe haven :)
> 
> Typos will be fixed later! And I have a strong feel there will be since this is LLLOOOOONNNGG. 11k chapter friends.
> 
> Enjoy :)

* * *

 

 

Slobbery kisses woke her up at the crack of dawn.

Again.

And slobbery kisses woke her the day before, and the day before that.

Actually, she been waking to slobbery Kylo kisses for the last three days. And while Rey was fond of her massive furry friend, she wasn’t particularly excited when he laid on top of her, crushing her lungs at five in the morning.

Meanwhile Kylo let his owner sleep peacefully beside her, only cuddling with his master rather than waking him for a walk or a drink of water.

No, apparently it was Rey’s job now.

“I’m up, I’m up,” she muttered, patting Kylo’s face away.

The dog leapt off her and trotted over to the closed bedroom door, nudging the frame imploringly as she attempted rub the rest of the sleep in her eyes away. Wiggling out of Ben’s iron hold around her waist, Rey reached over and grabbed a discarded sweater beside her bed. Standing up, she shrugged it on and left the bedroom, Kylo less than a pace behind her. Half awake, she slipped on her blue rainboots over her fuzzy socks and plaid pajama pants, before whistling softly for Kylo to come over. Listening, the dog came to her feet, Rey latching his retractable leash on to his collar.

“Next time, you wake Ben—not me.”

Kylo licked her cheek, as though saying ‘ _yeah right._ ’

“I swear—you two share a brain and conspire against me.”

On that note, they set out for their morning walk.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_“Well, I wouldn’t say I was an icon—”_

_“Um, you kind of were.”_

_“No—I was just someone who wanted what was best for everyone. The press made me an icon. Which is ridiculous if you actually know me. Those nerfherders.”_ A sigh. _“My son would say otherwise.”_

_“Why do you say that?”_

_“He…he and I have came the long way round to be mother and son again.”_ An empty chuckle. _“He held a grudge…maybe better yet it was resentment. Han and I were never around enough when Ben was growing up—we tried, but we fucked up a lot. But what parent doesn’t?”_

Undiscernible shuffling, a ruffling of fabric.

 _“I just never truly realized the extent it would have on Ben. It hurts to say I didn’t know who my son was until he was in his late twenties. I knew nothing about him.”_ A sharp exhale. _“ It took years later for me to confess…and it’s something I have to live with every day. It’s something Han was trying to fix…”_

Silence.

Another forced chuckle.

_“Who the hell wants to be an icon? At this stage of my life, I just wanted to be a decent person and maybe a half decent mother. I think I’m finally getting both.”_

 

Rey paused the recording.

Glancing down at the man sleeping next to her, Rey brushed a stray hair away from his face.

He grunted, but did not wake.

She couldn’t fall back asleep after taking Kylo out—she never could—so she listened to their interviews. Listened and wrote more to her draft. With Leia gone, part of Rey felt like abandoning the piece…yet she knew the woman would haunt her if she decided otherwise.

Leia wanted her to write the memoir. It was Rey’s obligation to do so, even if it be a painful task.

Clicking the space bar once more, Leia voice once again filtered through Rey’s earbuds.

 

_“What does ‘nerfherder’ even mean?”_

_“Oh, sweetheart, I have so much to teach you…”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

“When is the funeral again?”

“This upcoming Monday,” Rey answered, she and Finn speaking quietly in the kitchen as the latter worked on breakfast. For once they were able to enjoy a morning meal together, Rey’s schedule going topsy-turvy with their house guest.

While both hoped for Ben to join them, it was no surprise when seven o’clock rolled around for breakfast, he remained in bed. He’d been lying in bed for the majority of the last few days, mostly up to make calls for the funeral. Luckily his mother had all her ducks in a row, her will up to date as recent as last month, not to mention she actually had notes on how she wanted her funeral to transpire. Ben wasn’t joking when he said his mother was planning her own funeral.

Overall, it was oddly beneficial. Less worries for Ben, who needed to be coerced into getting out of bed to eat and shower.

“Why so late?”

“His uncle is flying in from out of the country.”

Finn paused, frowning down at the omelet in the pan. “I thought his uncle was dead.”

“His other, non-blood related, uncle. He’s a family friend, but an uncle nonetheless,” she explained, stirring her coffee mindlessly. “He was the first person Ben called once we got back from the hospital.”

“Ah,” Finn understood, returning back to the warm pan. “So…is this…is this situation—” he nodded his head to the hall, “—permanent?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, she sparing a small glance behind her. “I…don’t…think so?” she said unsure, because she honestly had no fucking clue. When they left the hospital, Ben made a stop at his place and packed a duffle with some of his belongings before they continued to her place.

She didn’t comment on the duffle, simply assuming it was for the night.

Clearly, she was wrong.

Finn’s eyebrows jumped into his hairline. “He’s been here for days.”

“His mom just died.”

“Yeah and now he has a giant house all to himself—”

“A house his mother died in, need I remind you.”

“And he’s head-over-heels for you.”

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves—”

“—So to me it seems logical he’ll ask you a question—”

“Finn!” Rey hissed lowly. “We aren’t…” She did a vague motion with her hands. Finn rolled his eyes at her absurd gestures, though allowed her to continue. “I highly doubt he’d want to live with me or me with him.”

“Love and grief make people do some weird shit,” Finn warned her, flipping his omelet. “But just so you know, he can stay as long as he wants.”

“ _Thanks_ —”

“But once it hits the two month mark, he needs to start chipping in for rent. I know he is a trust fund baby,” he plated his omelet, drizzling a line of ketchup on it, much to Rey’s disgust. “No excuses.”

“Thank for your generosity,” Rey remarked with an eyeroll.

Glancing down to her feet, Kylo peeked up at her with sadness in his eyes. With a soft sigh, she gave the dog a good scratch behind his ear.

They weren’t the only ones suffering—Leia’s sweet guard dog was left to mourn as well.

“Come on, let’s go check in on Ben,” she called to the dog, patting her thigh for him to follow her. Diligently he listened, keeping pace with her. Upon entering the bedroom Kylo bounded up to left side of the bed, Ben’s unofficial side. His wet nose nudged up against Ben’s neck, before dropping his head and front paws on his master’s shoulder.

“Kylo…not now,” Ben mumbled, sinking further under the covers.

Looked like her and Kylo needed to be a tag team.

Closing the door behind her, Rey followed Kylo’s lead and sat on the opposite on the bed.

“As much as I love spending time with Kylo…I think you two might need some one on one bonding time.”

His eyes opened, Ben staring back at her with little emotion.

“He likes you better.”

“I highly doubt that,” she nodded to the dog, “he has been keeping a vigil when his bladder is not about to explode.”

“I…don’t want to go outside,” he mumbled into her pillow, “I just…don’t have it in me to go outside.”

Rey felt like a hypocrite to argue. She did the same exact thing when her grandfather died—

Laid in bed.

Ignored obligations.

Refused to go outside.

Had questionable hygiene.

After the second day, Rey was pretty sure Ben just sat in the bathroom and let the shower run rather than actually stand under the water.

It took Finn practically dragging her ass out of bed to get her to go to therapy. She had to be coerced under false pretenses and making flimsy promises to her roommate in ordered for him to shut up about her wellbeing. Even then, she struggled to accept what happened, how her grandfather’s death transpired. Not to mention she was a shitty human being to every single person she interacted with on a daily basis. Unfortunately, no one let her get away with her attitude, therapy filled with other’s just like her who were simply better at hiding their pain or wore it like a badge of honor. No, they didn’t wrestle with it until they hit rock-bottom like her.

Without much choice, Rey was forced to face her reality and her problems.

A vindictive part of her believed Ben needed the same done to him.

She dragging his ass out of bed, forcing him to walk his dog. Then maybe have him follow up with the funeral plans, let people know he was fucking _okay_. Not, you know, dying in a ditch somewhere.

But Ben _wasn’t_ her.

No matter how similar they may be, Rey wasn’t Ben and Ben wasn’t Rey.

Ben had his come to Jesus moment eons ago compared to her. He’d been going to therapy for years, he made better life choices and strived to do what made _him_ happy despite a world seemingly against him. His sobriety has been intact for the last few years, and as awful as it sounded, this wasn’t his first rodeo with loss. However, that did not mean the pain of loss was any less. Instead, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was amplified.

After all, he was truly the last Skywalker.

Everything was left to him.

There was no one else to carry his name nor of kin.

That shit would make anyone catatonic.

And Rey would know—she was in the same boat on that front.

So maybe Ben needed a different approach.

Less aggression and more understanding.

“Okay.” She folded her body back under the covers, sliding up next to him. She tucked her arms under her pillow, her shoulder brushing up against his as she snuggled deeper into his warmth. “Then, I’ll just lay with you.”

His head lifted a inch off the pillow, Ben squinting at her. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Oh, yes it is.”

“No, really it’s not.”

“Well, it’s my bed and I want to lay in it with you,” she answered simply, knowing he couldn’t argue with her partial logic.

With a huff he turned his head in the opposite direction. Away from her.

No surprise there.

Curling on her side, she wrapped her arms around his torso, smothering her face in between his shoulder blades. Inhaling deeply, she allowed herself to close her eyes and rest with him. Eventually Ben’s shoulders relaxed, the tension in his body loosening as he accepted her embrace.

“Part of me thinks I can just call her up…imagining all of this was some catastrophic nightmare.”

His hand latched on to hers, threading their fingers together.

“But…but I know it’s not,” his chest rose then fell in a sharp jerk, as though catching his breath before it left his body, “I had months to mentally prepare for this…and it fucking hurts more than I thought it would.”

“She’s your mother—it’s going to hurt.”

“I know,” his voice sounded far, but the rumble of his words vibrated against her cheek, “I know it’s going to hurt but…some childish part of me believed his mom was invincible. Except she’s not. She never was and she should have been because if anyone _deserves_ to be invincible it was Leia-fucking-Organa.”

She gave a faint watery chuckle, squeezing him closer, as though they’d become one by mere proximity. Fancifully Rey believed she’d be able to absorb all his pain if she was skin to skin or clutching him close.

“I agree with you there,” she muttered, “she was a deserving woman.”

“I didn’t talk to her for years,” he confessed, “not couple of years ago. No phone calls, letters, emails…I ceased all contact with my family for the longest time. God, I was a such a shitty son.”

“Maybe you were,” she muttered, rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand, “But you weren’t in her last days. You were like her little boy again.”

He scoffed lowly at the sentiment, though did not argue further.

“Ben—you humored her, opened up to her, and while I can’t speak for Leia, I think that’s all she ever wanted.”

Shifting, Ben flopped to his other side, now facing her. His honey-brown eyes shone dimly, face damp with silent tears. While naturally fair skinned, Ben appeared pale from the lack of sunlight and food consumption. Dark circles sunk in, causing his jaw and cheekbones to appear sharper.  He seem sickly, yet one glance at his eyes one would know he was weighted down by the tragedies of life rather than a common cold.

“Do you…do you really think that?” He sounded young, far younger than his thirty-something years. Boyish and lost, a shade of Ben that merely rested under his subtle anxiousness and poorly held together stoic demeanor.

With the pads of her thumb, she wiped away his tear tracks. “Absolutely.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next four days are…a lot.

‘A lot’ feels like an inadequate term, but it’s the only phrase she can label the last few days.

With Ben it was taking one step forward, and three steps back.

The steps forward: Ben was no longer in bed all the time, which is good.

The steps back: Apparently, Ben opening up that night was a fluke because he’d been radio silent since. Not a peep about his mother. Not peep about his emotions. Just downcast eyes and grunts in response.

He also hadn’t eaten a full meal, a snack here and there when she wasn’t looking. At least that’s what Finn told her when she was off taking care of errands for a funeral of a woman who wasn’t her own flesh and blood, but close enough.

Somehow with Ben’s despondence and lack of baseline effort, Rey found herself fielding phone calls and visitors.

How these people got ahold of her home address, she wasn’t sure, but alas folks of all ages were squirming their way in to share their condolences.

_“She was simply the best; one of the best people I knew.”_

_“She will be missed. Her bills and proposals made history.”_

_“She and her brother are back together where they belong. Can’t separate twins for long.”_

_“Han is already probably giving her hell in the afterlife. Just like he did in the living.”_

Rey could not help but notice not one mention of Ben. Of Leia’s son who remained by her side in her last days.

No one seemed to care Ben Solo was left on his own, nor share their condolences with him.

Just _her_ —the girl who was apparently writing Leia’s memoir.

Naturally Ben ignored the visitors and calls, hiding away in a corner of her apartment where no one could find him.

Briefly, she wondered if it was mere childhood instinct kicking back into him. To become a shadow in the light of his mother and father. Allow himself to fall into the background even when they no longer were around because that’s all Ben ever knew.

Despite his refusal for small talk or mourning with others, Rey noticed Ben was making small efforts for himself.

For example, he changed his clothes.

Still the same version of sweatpants and long sleeved shirt, just a different hue on the grayscale. He’d been on his laptop, working. Answering student emails, coming up with lesson plans because his mother’s death came earlier than expected—as morbid as that sounded—and he needed to adjust.

His plan, oddly his _hope_ , was Leia would pass after fall semester finals. Instead it was two weeks before and he was struggling with wanting to test prep with his students, while also not having the mental nor emotional energy to be a half decent teacher.

Thankful Amilyn was considerate, Leia one of her oldest friends, and took it upon herself to help in the classroom. Ben seemed to worry less at that news, though he still micromanaged remotely, sending hourly emails to the principal.

“I never knew hermit men existed,” Finn murmured to her as they unpacked a new shipment of books. “But Ben is proving they come in all ages and sizes.”

Rey rolled her eyes. “He is not being a hermit.”

“Didn’t you go to his classroom to pick up papers?”

“Yes.”

“When he is a grown man and can do it himself?”

She gave Finn a mild glare. “He’s just having…a moment,” she settled on.

“He sure is having a long moment.”

“Some moments are longer than others.”

He stacked a few books on the main sales table. “I just don’t want you to be weighed down by his responsibilities. Just because you are in a relationship doesn’t mean you carry all their weight.”

“What if carrying his weight of responsibility is my way of helping?”

“I’m not saying to not help,” Finn said with a hint of an apology, “I’m saying _maybe_ nudge him in the right direction to start carrying his weight again.”

She fiddled with the plastic cover of their latest non-fiction selection, hoping to keep it snug on the hardback copy. “Nudging him?”

Finn shrugged, setting up the sales price sign. “A little nudge, get the idea in his head. He can’t let his grief consume him, it won’t be good for him. You of all people should know that.”

She sighed, unable to argue with his logic. For months she allowed herself to fall into bad habits, slugging through a haze of grief and depression one day after the other. She wouldn’t shower for weeks nor find the energy to get out of the apartment. A vicious cycle consumed her easily, Rey writing it off as her way of managing a substantial change. In the wave of emotions she never noticed her habits were a way of avoiding reality until it was nearly too late.

While this wasn’t a first loss for Ben, she knew he once upon a time had unhealthy coping mechanisms.

It appeared he wasn’t reverting back to old habits.

Yet doubt lingered in the back of Rey’s mind.

She needed to intervene before he fell in to deep.

Taking Finn’s advice to heart, Rey asked Ben one afternoon if he wanted to go over to his mother’s, maybe check her mail and throw out food.

A little nudge for him to focus on his responsibilities.

A little nudge for him to face reality.

A little fucking nudge of him to at least talk to her.

A less than pleasing door slam answered her question.

“How do I help someone in this situation?” Rey asked Dr. Andor at their usual Friday session. “He doesn’t want to do anything pertaining to the funeral, or see anyone. He barely gets up, in bed most of the day. Sometimes I’ll hear him wake up and walk about the apartment in the middle of the night. I don’t know what he does, but he goes to the kitchen I think…” she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter—what matters is I feel helpless in this situation.”

Dr. Andor took her concerns in thoughtfully, humming as he wrote some quick notes. Tapping his pen on his notepad, he carefully considered his next words.

“Well, grief is different for everyone, Rey. It’s an intimate and individual experience—”

“Yet you have a grief support group?” she interjected bitterly.

Dr. Andor huffed, rubbing his forehead. “Because sharing bereavement is cathartic. Helps those who are left behind process and realize they are not alone in loss.”

“So I should share about my own loss?”

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t know if that would help, Ben.” Setting his notebook aside, he stood up, motioning Rey to follow him to table-kitchenette area set up in his office. He flicked on the electric kettle, the whir filling the space. As he went about finding mugs, he continued speaking, “Ben has dealt with loss before, but this is different because it is almost like grief upon grief. He not only lost his mother, but he lost his uncle and father in the span of three years.”

“He got hit with a triple whammy.”

“Yes, good way to look at it,” he put down a blue polka-dot mug and a shooting star mug on the table, followed by a bag of coffee grounds, “and as I am sure as you know, grieving never ends. It will hurt forever, just it will hurt less and less as time goes on.”

“I see,” she muttered, understanding, but not quite believing.

He then tossed some coffee filters on the table before grabbing his simple pour over from the counter. “Let me put it this way, how you processed—are processing—your grandfather’s death is going to be vastly different than how Ben is processing his mother’s death. You’d assume since he knew the inevitable, it wouldn’t affect him as much.”

“Correct,” she mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

“But that’s not how emotions work. Just like how you were close to your grandfather, yet you refused to acknowledge the good he gave you, focusing on the bad.” Placing the filter on the pour over, Dr. Andor scooped measure spoonful’s of coffee grains. “Why do you think that is?”

“Why I focused on the bad?”

Dr. Andro nodded, methodically focused on making coffee. Watching the familiar moments was oddly soothing, Rey finding herself able to lean back and listen to her therapist.

“I guess because…I felt hurt. I was angry.”

“At you or him?”

“Both,” she paused.

 

_“It’s not your fault, Rey.”_

_“Yes, it is! It is my fault. I got to him too late—that is what I was told by the nurses, by the doctors, by fucking everyone. If someone found him fifteen—even ten minutes sooner, he’d still be alive!”_

_“But that’s not how it works—you just said so yourself. We have no control over these matters—”_

_“But I did! I went against our normal schedule—I didn’t call him to let him know. I could have done things differently!”_

_“No, you couldn’t have. You’re still holding on to what you could have done—that’s your problem. That’s why you are miserable! You can’t fucking let go.”_

“No, it was me. I was mostly angry with myself,” she answered truthfully.

A pang of hurt echoed in her chest. Then a flood of unexpected release crashed over her being.

She was angry. She was so angry at herself and it took Ben shouting it in her face for her to finally acknowledge the elephant in the room—her guilt.

Looking back, she felt—feels—guilt over her grandfather’s death. Whether it be necessary or unnecessary guilt, she had it, consuming her like a dormant virus ready for attack at the least unsuspecting moments.

It was a guilt she needed to wrestle with until she could no longer feel regret gnawing on her insides at the thought of her grandfather.

Dr. Andor did not seem surprised by this revelation. Instead, he placed the pour over on top of the blue polka dot mug. Gradually he poured the water, steam wafting in the air.

“How long has it been since your grandfather died?” Dr. Andor asked.

“Six months, seven in a couple of weeks.”

“And yet you still hurt,” he deduced, watching the coffee drip and not her. “Now imagine how Ben feels—his mother died almost a week ago.”

Rey chewed on her bottom lip. “You…might have a point,” she admitted reluctantly. “But that still doesn’t answer my question—what do I do? How can I help Ben?”

He passed her the blue polka dot mug, the coffee done brewing. Scalding at the touch, Rey blew on the liquid, waiting for Dr. Andor’s answer.

“Well, what did you want from other’s during your initial stages of grieving?”

Her gut sank at the question.

She knew what she _didn’t_ want.

She didn’t want to be bothered.

She didn’t want to be surrounded by people she didn’t know.

And she didn’t want to be pitied.

Yet there was one thing she did want, feeling silly for wanting something so base, but true.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” she confessed, “I just wanted someone to sit with me. Lay with me….” She swallowed the tightness in her throat, feeling vulnerable to speaking about her wants and desires, “…someone to hold me.”

She didn’t receive any of comfort when her grandfather died. Sure, Finn hugged her and shared his condolences. He grieved on his own too, but he did not know what to do after the first week. He needed to move on, life demanded it and so he obliged.

Dr. Andor did not make a noise of agreement, simply giving her the most privacy he could as he worked on making his own mug of coffee. As he waited for the drip, he looked back up at her.

“And Ben— you said, he hasn’t been to his apartment or his mother’s all week?”

“Yes,” she gasped out, wiping the tears pooling under her eyes. “He’s just been meandering in the apartment all week.”

“So what does that tell you?”

“Um,” she shrugged, “he likes my apartment, I don’t know—”

An aggravated groan came from Dr. Andor, he plopping down in the chair opposite her with a huff. “ _My god_ —Rey, I am going to be blunt with you—Ben has other friends. Other friends who would willingly be a shoulder to cry on, offer an ear to listen. Yet he chose _you_.”

“I don’t understand—”

“He chose you because he trusts you, he wants to be around you. He can go home if he wants, but he doesn’t because—

“—He wants to be with me?” She blinked owlishly at Dr. Andor. “I mean I am just his girlfriend, a shitty one at that.”

“Forget what type of girlfriend you think you are, and focus on what I am trying to tell you,” he insisted, staring her dead in the eye. “Ben is choosing to be around you; what does that tell you, Rey?”

“He…doesn’t want to be alone,” she said in broken phrases, hoping she was right about this.

“And?”

“And…he wants me to comfort him?”

“Good,” Dr. Andor breathed, catching his breath as if he were running a marathon.

“Okay he wants me around, he doesn’t want to be alone—what else can I do? I feel a little helpless here.”

Shaking his head, Dr. Andor picked up his coffee and took a sip. “Rey, this is not about you. It’s about _Ben_. Your job is to simply be there for him however he sees fit. And if that means right now your just his cuddle buddy and someone he maybe occasionally opens up to in the middle of the night, then that’s what you are right now. Yes, look out for him, but don’t push him too hard or else he’ll close up and run in the opposite direction.” He then sighed, rubbing the scruff on his jaw, part of him tense yet accepting. “Then maybe… he’ll talk more, do more, be less of a recluse—I don’t know. Just don’t let him feel like he is alone in this.”

 

* * *

 

“So Uncle Lando?”

“My dad’s best friend.”

“Right.”

“I haven’t seen him since Dad’s funeral,” Ben explained quietly, shifting in the driver’s seat, “but we’ve kept in contact.”

He looked at glowing numbers on the dashboard again; they still had a half hour before Lando’s plane was due to arrive. The engine was already shut off, Ben’s key’s tucked into his pocket. They arrived unnecessarily early, Ben waking her at three in the morning to get ready. Neither she nor Kylo were pleased with his moving about, the two remaining in bed until the absolute last minute.

Despite the ungodly wake up call, the day thus far was a win. Ben actually showered that morning, his hair wet when he came out of the bathroom. Rey felt she couldn’t complain at that development.

Upon hearing he kept contact with his uncle, Rey smiled. He wasn’t completely alone and it wasn’t just them; plenty of people cared about Ben whether he preferred to acknowledge it or not. “Good, that’s really good.”

“He was the only one I spoke to when I was speaking to no one.”

A simple comment with a weighty reality. In these little words, Rey was reminded she didn’t know as much about Ben as she liked to believe—part of him was still a mystery. Though not a mystery she wasn’t willing to put in the time and effort to discover; she’d put as much time in as necessary to know what every Ben Solo grunt, gleam, and snort meant. She knew how to exhibit patience, unlike _someone_ …

His fingers thrummed on the steering wheel, a nervous tap to his offbeat rhythm.

“Do…do you want to get off? Maybe grab some coffee in the airport before we see him?” she asked, barely restraining her own hands from clasping over his fidgety fingers. His thrumming was understandable, however the slightest bit annoying.

Plus she needed caffeine, and coffee always seemed like a good option.

He nodded mutely, opening the door with a rough shove.

Rey tsked, following after him. With all his manhandling, it was a wonder how the Falcon remain intact all these years. Based off of Leia’s comments, she doubted Han Solo was any less gentle with the machine—if not _worse_.

Quickly, Rey saddled up beside Ben, grasping his hand on their short walk.

She’d never done that before. Hold his hand as they walked. It was such a couple-y thing, Rey never thought they’d breech that territory with the weird relationship dance they were doing a few weeks previous.

Now it seemed to be a natural gesture.

While the airport was significantly warmer than the car, there was a crisp artificial coolness in the air. Few people linger about, most in business attire or charging their electronics. There is a small group lined up at the ticketing area, though overall not much was happening at five in the morning in Takodana’s small airport.

With little trouble they found a coffee shop—Rogue Café. Small tables filled the store front, the counter and pastry fridge taking most of the space in the café. Without much prompting, Ben ordered their drinks while Rey found a table by the window outlooking the rest of the terminal. A large skylight covered a portion of the ceiling in the center of the airport, dull light from outside shining gradually into the building. Silently Rey watched the light of the sunrise emerge, casting awkward shadows down upon the terminal. An odd view, almost intrusive for some reason, yet a welcoming sight to her.

A plate was slid towards her.

Drizzled with icing and shining with a buttery sheen was a fresh Cheese Danish.

“I figured you were hungry; though we could share,” Ben muttered, taking a seat across from her. “It was either this one or Cherry Danish since the other pastries are being baked right now.”

“Ah, that’s the warm smell,” she quipped, recalling the faint mix of coffee beans and sweetness hitting her as she entered moments earlier.

Ben picked up a butter knife, slicing the Danish in half. He picked up his portion, taking a bite. Chewing at a lazy pace. Then swallowed, before taking another bite.

He quirked an eyebrow at her watchful gaze.

“Aren’t you going to eat your half?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she sputtered out, “Of course.” Rey picked up the remaining piece and shoved half the Cheese Danish in her mouth, taking a hearty bite. Gesturing to her full mouth, she said, “ _Eating_.” Naturally, he could see the sopping food in her mouth at the comment.

Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. “Charming—always the classy one, Rey.”

He had another nibble of the Danish. At the sight, Rey froze, eyes scanning his move.

Dropping his food back down on the plate, his eyes narrowed on her. “Why the staring?”

“I can’t stare at my boyfriend?”

“You are doing the creepy—weird staring.”

“I don’t do weird staring.”

“ _Yes_ —yes, you do.”

“No I don’t.”

“You’re doing it right now,” he crossed his arms over his chest, matching her gaze, “Like you are waiting for _something_ to happen—I don’t know what, but it puts me on edge.”

Just then the barista announced their order, Ben standing up to retrieve their coffee. Just to prove his assessment wrong, Rey forced herself to look out the window.

Yet after two seconds she felt the pull to look back over at him. Unfortunately, he was already looking at her, _knowingly_.

When he sat back down, she had the decency to appear apologetic. He handed over her coffee—americano with caramel and almond milk, an order never once got wrong since the first time—though his stern, imploring stare did not waver.

He wanted an answer to her staring, and he was dosing her medicine right back as retaliation.

Her first instinct was to deflect, as she did moments ago, with humor. Spout a witty comment, make _him_ look like the dumbass, or better yet make them _both_ look like dumbasses. Usually, Ben would follow her lead.

But sometimes…sometimes he’d do _this_.

Push away all the jokes and remarks easily, as though he were just swiping a window away, and forced her to _talk_.

To really, truly talk.

Not in a bad way…but in a curious, maybe frustrated way. He knew her games and her tricks in deflection, she dancing around topics for as long as she could remember. He was the same in that sense.

So in her efforts to be…better, per say, she caved.

After all it was only them. If there was one person she could trust to be her honest to god self, it was Ben…despite how difficult and painful it was to admit.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you eat in days.”

She expected him to combust at her words. Cry again. Do _something_.

Instead, his reaction was a gradual recoil.

As though he had to rifle through his brain to see if had or had not eaten in the last four days.

His face screwed up, he shaking his head furiously.

“But…I have.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“But…I swear I have,” he insisted. “I ate…an apple yesterday.”

Rey frowned. “When? I was with you all day.”

“When you took Kylo for a walk,” he answered, a quake in his words.

He scratched his neck, then fiddled with the lid of his cup.

He took a long swig of his coffee.

Eyes remained trained on the table.

Rey gapped at him, a low scoff coming from the back of her throat.

 _This damn bastard._ Ben was seriously the worst fucking liar in existence.

“Don’t lie,” she uttered. “Seriously, this is not something to lie about.”

He huffed. “The days have been blending together—I forgot to eat, okay?” he explained hastily, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like I am doing it on purpose—it just happens. And I didn’t even notice.”

He took another sip of his coffee. “I’ll eat more in front of you, if that makes you happy.”

Rey raised an eyebrow at his tone, but forced herself to try to shrug it off. Ben was just being moody—he had every right to be moody, hell knows she is all the damn time.

Like in this specific instance, she was maybe a tad bit moody as well.

“It’s not about eating in front of me,” she countered, “it’s about know you aren’t accidentally starving yourself—”

“My god, Rey I am _not_ starving myself—”

“I wasn’t saying you were, I was simply _telling_ you that it’s a concern.”

“Well, you don’t have to be concerned.”

“I can’t help, but be concerned.”

“Yes, you can,” he griped, “it’s like a light switch. Just shut off, then on. That simple.”

“That’s not how emotions work, Ben—you and I both fucking know that.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be _concerned_ okay?” he hissed. “I don’t want you to think I am not taking care of myself or I’m going to keel over—”

“My _goodness_ , you are such a drama queen! I can’t help it, Ben. You don’t have the best track record.”

“Oh, like you are one to fucking talk. Need I remind you it was me who had to sit in a hospital after you blacked out? Talk about being concerned—”

His words knocked the wind out of her.

That was the thing about opening up, sharing part of your life with someone, they knew you at your lowest. And they could use it as ammunition if they so desired.

“You’re an arsehole—”

“Am I catching deja’vu?” A pleasant, teasing voice cut through their conversation. The two whipped their heads to the side, finding a grinning man in a fine, blue pinstriped suit standing before them. “If it isn’t like seeing the spitting image of Han and Leia.”

“Uncle Lando.”

“Kid,” he nodded, his eyes sliding from Ben to Rey. A cocky yet charming grin bloomed on his face, he holding his hand out for a shake. “And who do we have here?”

She grasped his hand firmly, shaking it once as she introduced herself. “Rey Kenobi.”

“A Kenobi!” he planted a brief kiss on her knuckles, Ben rolling his eyes the display. “Well, then it truly is an honor to meet you, my dear.”

Rey slipped her hand away, intrigued by the man though concerned with how the lightening thundering inside Ben moments ago became a mere storm cloud hanging over his head at the sight of his uncle.

Lando’s free hand rests on Ben’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He tensed at the gesture, not bothering to peer up at his uncle. Instead, he remained focused on the empty plate at the center of the table.

“I do have to say, you two really brought me back to the good ol’e days,” he squeezed Ben’s shoulder again, “I wasn’t joking when I said that—you guys could honestly rival Han and Leia. You are a Solo through and through, Starfighter.”

Ben abruptly stood up, causing both Rey and Lando to flinch in surprise. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Ben—” Rey started only to swallow her words a second later.

He was barely holding it together, his jaw locked and lips pressed tightly shut. She glanced at his clenched hands, and nodded.

“Okay—just come back in a few?” she asked, feeling a bit silly afterwards.

Of course he’d be back; they drove together. But seeing him flustered, searching for an escape even if it is only a moment, Rey could not help but feel the dormant part of her awaken at him leaving.

His face soften, hands unclenching. Coming to her side, he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “ _Always_ ,” he murmured with assurance before briskly leaving the table as he intended. He didn’t look back, but moved with purpose.

The moment he was out of an earshot, Rey’s eyes snapped to Lando. “Why the _hell_ would you say that to him? You of all people know about his parents.”

The man had the audacity to chuckle. A hearty, full chuckle.

“You _are_ a feisty one, would need to be to handle poor little Starfighter.”

Astonishingly, Lando did not seem bothered by Ben’s departure, no doubt expecting it if he knew him since birth. He sat in the empty chair across from her.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Rey implored, niceties momentarily forgot.

“Because Ben needs to get his head out of his ass if he wants to keep a girl like you by his side.”

Rey didn’t argue with that assessment. To fill the silence she picked up her coffee and sipped a mouthful. Over the rim of her lid, she noticed Lando watching her with a bemused glint in his eye.

Sitting across from him Rey recalled how Leia described one of oldest and dearest friends—

 

 _“Lando Calrissian is a charming—better yet_ classy _— scoundrel, but he has a heart Took sometime to get one, but he has one now and that’s what matters. He and Han got along for so long, the two thick as thieves. In fact, they_ were _thieves at one point… Not to mention he adores Ben as his own. This family owes him a lot.”_

 

—She noticed the class immediately. He held himself taller than his failing height and spoke with the elegance of wordsmith one moment, and then a smartass negotiator the second. Rey could easily imagine a young Ben toddling after a man, the little moniker _Starfighter_ not going unnoticed.

“Thank you for coming with him to pick me up,” Lando’s eyes traveled the sight of the terminal, a vague disinterest in his gaze. “God knows he needs all the help he can get these days.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Be honest, how is he holding up?” The question was simple but to the point, Rey momentarily stunned by his bluntness though appreciative of some straightforwardness.

“He has his moments,” was her lackluster answer.

Lando hummed in understanding. “When Han passed it…it was bad. Lots of guilt; survivors guilt and just the plain old guilt that comes along with regrets. Any of that?”

Rey paused, genuinely considering Ben’s state of being. “He’s just…despondent for the most part.” Idly, she played with a napkin. She twisted little pieces together and apart, chewing on her bottom lip. “With Leia he had more time to process. But I still think he is just coming to terms with it; figure out what he’s going to do next,” she shrugged, “who knows how long that will take.”

“Ben’s not indecisive,” Lando countered, “if anything he is _too_ decisive. A bit impulsive—he gets it from his dad.” The twinge of melancholy in his tone was palpable. Lando then forced a smile, the gesture genuine after a fleeting second of wobbly hesitance. “If I was still a gambling man, I’d put my money on Ben already knowing what he’s going to do and what he wants to do. He just doesn’t know how, or _does_ know how and is just a little nervous.”

Picking at her fingers, Rey quirked an eyebrow at the comment. “What do you mean he’s a little nervous?”

“Just because he is decisive doesn’t mean he always makes the best decisions.”

“A valid assessment.”

Rey didn’t want to think too long on Lando’s words. He made Ben sound like a loose cannon—which he was at one point—but Ben seemed to turn over a new lead over the last few years. Not so much a change in personality, but a change in perspective.

With little doubt, Rey believed Ben would continue to be snarky and grumpy for the rest of his life. He’d continue to be a judgmental mess with a secret heart of gold, because that’s just who Ben Solo was inside and out. He moved past his anger, aggression, anxiety, alcoholism, and was making the effort to become the man he wanted to be rather than what he felt was forced upon him.

In their time together, she hardly witnessed him make a hasty decision—all his actions were calculated, down to how interacted with others. As strange as it was to say, he found a formula of how to be around others and how to be a somewhat welcoming version of himself.

He had a system to his life and he thrived in said system, however little or much she was slowly wrecking said system. Or how circumstance and events were throwing a wretch in his routine, causing little hiccups to ripple through his life.

“But enough about Ben—we can talk about him all the time. I figure we will,” Lando declared with a casual, smug smirk. “What about you Miss Rey Kenobi?”

“What _about_ me?”

“I want to get to know who made my nephews a dopey fool for love. I never thought I’d see the day,” he quipped good-naturedly.

The mentioned of ‘love’ caused her stomach to stir and heat to rise from her chest to her face. A term that’s been toiling and tumbling in her brain for days, _weeks_. Her friends used the word like it meant everything and nothing, an empty string of letters meaning what they wanted it to mean. ‘Love’ was not a term she used or though on lightly.

‘Love’ meant a variety of actions and emotions, one’s Rey could barely fathom or comprehend. Because ‘love’ was an experience she never thought she’d have the privilege to participate, let along find herself caught in the middle of its storm unknowingly.

Rey felt ill prepared to combat all which entailed ‘love’. She’d feel foolish if she let those words tumble from her lips, only to not be gentle with the weight they carried.

She couldn’t do that to Ben. She couldn’t commit to the term unless she was absolutely sure; until it felt they were on the same page of life, not skipping chapters to get to the good part.

If Lando noticed her burning cheeks, he didn’t comment, instead asking quiet gayly, “Who _are_ you dear?”

“I’m no one.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“You don’t need to flatter me.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.”

She chuckled at the quip. Chewing her lower lip, she attempted to formulate an adequate answer for Lando. “I’m a girl…who’s still trying to find her place in all this.”

“Aren’t we all?” he sniffed Ben’s coffee, before simply shaking his head. “I find usually what you are looking for is right in front of you, not behind.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed. “I can see how you and Leia got along.”

“And I can see how you and the dear old Princess got along,” he shot back as he stood back up. “I need some tea, would you like anything else? More coffee? You seem like a coffee gal.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, Rey caved. “Alright—um an Americano with caramel and almond milk.”

He winked at her. “Right on it.” With a twist he sauntered to the counter to order.

Shaking her head, Rey looked back out the window. With a quick once over, she spotted Ben pacing up a storm. His shoulders were hunched and arms crossed, a portrait of never aging teenage angst.

Yet with every pivot and stomp, tension eases off of him is pitiful waves.

Eventually his brisk pacing moved into a lazy walk, his hands shoved into his pockets, his hunched shoulder still ever present.

As his feet came to a stop, the peak of the rising sun shined through the skylight. Of course he did not notice, his eyes trained on the ground, but from her vantage point…he looked like he was walking towards the light.

His head rose up, his brows furrowing as he caught sight of her.

Smiling, she waved to him.

With some hesitancy, Ben waved back.

Maybe this was a sign…

Maybe Ben was doing better than Rey thought.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Later, once Lando checked into his hotel with plans for dinner with them later in the day, Rey and Ben laid side by side in bed, a nap desperately needed.

As slumber welcomed her with open arms, Ben’s shifting on the bed roused Rey. The bed dipped and wobbled a bit until Ben settled beside her. His warm breath tickled the length of her neck; deep, steady inhales and exhales.

His arms remained tucked under his pillow. From behind she felt is penetrating stare, Rey unable to fall asleep when she knew Ben was awake, _watching_ her.

Who was the creepy starrer now?

“I…I didn’t mean what I said.”

Well, she certainly wasn’t expecting an apology after their early morning.

“Which time?” she asked, not bothering to turn around.

“ _Which time_?” he uttered back momentarily stunned by the accusation.

“Yes, because you’ve been saying a lot of stupid shit these last few days,” she mumbled, “and I get it. We all say stupid shit, especially considering everything…but yeah, which time?”

He paused, Ben flopping to lay on his back rather than his side. “The…one from today.”

Rey hummed, waiting for him to elaborate.

“When,” he sighed, turning on his side again, “when I said I didn’t want you to be concerned about me.”

“Ah that.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause, Rey waiting for him to continue.

Except Ben didn’t.

Frowning into her pillow, she chewed on the inside of her cheek, realizing she was the one who needed to keep this damn conversation going if they were truly clear the air.

“So you _didn’t_ mean it—is that what you are trying to tell me?” she asked, curling further into herself.

“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” he amended in a hurry, “I meant…I don’t like it when you worry about me—you _shouldn’t_ be worrying about me. I’m not someone to worry about.”

“Then I can say the same thing about you,” she countered, now hugging her pillow tight to her chest. “You clearly worry about me—are _concerned_ about me—”

“Well, you give me reason to—”

“And you don’t do the same?” Rey interjected before he go about drudging up her blackout again. She had to live with the reminder for the rest of her life from her unrelenting guilt, she didn’t need Ben’s little acknowledgements to add on to the weight of her actions. “Like you said—I’m a train wreck, but you know what? So are you.”

A sharp inhale from him let Rey know she hit the right nerve. The right nerve to make him listen to her, a little wake up call from his haze of angry and muted grief.

“You’re right.”

“I—” her next words were forgotten as she heard him. She turned over, facing him with confusion. “I’m _what_?”

“You’re right,” he repeated with conviction, glancing over at her with shame. “I am a train wreck. Takes one to know one.”

“Exactly.”

“But that isn’t…” he shook his head. He shifted, mirroring her. “It isn’t an excuse for how I’ve been acting.”

“I wasn’t particularly pretty at my lowest either…” she mumbled with a wince. “I think we’ve both been pretty shitty to each other over these last few months.”

“But we’ve also been pretty great.”

“True,” she smirked a little, before becoming neutral. “Ben…you know you don’t have to bottle everything up. You _can_ talk to me.”

“I know,” was his automatic response.

“Whatever you need, I can help,” she reached across the small space between them, grasping the back of his hand. “You don’t need to hide anything from me—like you said, it takes one to know one; who else better to listen?”

His face softened, loosely gripping her hand back. With ease and caution, she intertwined their fingers. Lifting his eyes from her interlocked hands, his honey-brown reflected back to her. Open and honest, reminding her Ben was still there despite all the jumbled emotions coursing through him the last week and a half. His hair may have been a frumpy, greasy mess and the pure exhaustion seeping through every part of his body was palpable, but he remained oddly handsome. Not attractive— _god no_ —he needed to clean up terribly. But handsome, in a way that did not make sense to anyone else but her because…because she loved him and she could see through the mess he was _trying_.

And to see him trying did a funny little wiggle in her heart.

She just needed to remind herself he was going to be okay. She needed him to be okay.

“I—” the ‘l’ word was lodged in her throat, Rey clearing her throat. “I _care_ about you, you know.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, nudging her lightly, his forehead pressing against hers. “I care about you too.”

Her heart did the funny little wiggle again, tough this time the buzz of it all didn’t fade away.

An unsureness suddenly shadowed his features, no longer able to look her in the eye.

A flash of a lonely boy.

Inhaling, gathering his grip, Ben looked back up at her and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Do you…do you think you can just hold me?”

Biting down on her lip, Rey nodded mutely. Scooting closer, she tucked her head under his chin and wound her arms around his torso.

Firm and secure, he melted into her hold.

Rey knew the tears running down her neck were not her own…

So she held on.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Grief made people do weird shit.

Like some really _weird_ shit.

She recalled playing the same stupid record for a three weeks straight after her grandfather’s passing— _Old Friends_ by Simon and Garfunkel. Sad and depressing music her grandfather loved to play over and over. His sorry off-key voice humming along on Sunday mornings…

Old Kenobi was like that—liked the melancholy aspects of life despite his relative optimism and stubbornness. He liked cloudy days and the gloom of an overcast day. He preferred reading the stories that gave him a good cry rather than a happy ending.

Unexpectedly, she inherited that little affinity for melancholy from him.

Or when she camped out at a convenience store on the other side of town for her grandfather’s favorite magazine— _Coruscant Weekly_. Apparently someone cancelled his subscription—Rey later realized it had been her, a incident she performed in a drunken stupor—and she, for some desperate reason, needed a copy of the damn magazine.

Unfortunately _Coruscant Weekly_ was old school and the only way to subscribe was through a mail-in.

She waited and lurked at the only convince store in town that sold the magazine for almost a week, much to the cashier’s annoyance. She bought an arm full of Twinkies and numerous Cherry Slushies to bide her time during the week, possibly the only reason she wasn’t kicked out of the store.

So grief made people some weird things…

Such as Ben sitting in his mother’s closet for the last three hours, covered in piles of his mother’s clothes.

While Ben had no intention of selling his childhood home, they needed to still make the space livable, not with ghosts of his mother and father lingering around every corner. So Rey called in reinforcements—Kaydel, Mitaka, and even Dr. Andor and Jyn—to help with some reorganizing.

They’d been packing up some of Leia’s belongs; clothes, books, memorabilia. Mitaka and Kaydel helped with the kitchen area, while Dr. Andor and Jyn worked in the living room and dinning room. Which then left Rey and Ben with the bedrooms…arguably the most sensitive rooms.

And Ben had been fine for the most part. He knew were every nick-knack lived and all the crooks and crannies of the house. Leia also already had him go through her belongings and storage in her study and guest bedrooms. Ben was simply continuing what he started a few weeks back, he tackling the project like it was any old undertaking.

However, this attitude shifted once they entered his mother’s upstairs bedroom.

After all this was where Leia had been when she stumbled and fell, Kylo barking up and down the house for attention once he found her. Uncomfortable aura rested in the room; Rey wouldn’t have been surprised if Ben never moved into the room, preferring to remain down the hall or downstairs, at least for the time being.

In an effort to divide and conquer, Rey had been consolidating the soaps and perfumes into one crate in the ensuite bathroom, Ben taking care of the closet.

When she heard a faint, muffled sob from the bedroom, her task was all but abandoned in a rush.

Rounding the corner, Rey found him on the floor, _sniffing_ his mother’s sweater—her _favorite_ sweater. The rest of his body remained covered in an array of clothing pieces, Ben drowning in a sea of beige, blues, whites, and brown fabric.

“Oh…sweetheart,” she muttered.

He didn’t bother to look up at her.

Dropping to a crouch, she crawled over to him, shoving some fabric out of the way. He flopped on his back, no longer on his side, but still clutched his mother’s sweater to his chest. Wedging herself between him and the wall of the small walk-in closet, Rey laid beside.

“Ben…” she began, lifting one of the silky blouses off his face. His tired and tear laden eyes blinked back at her. His scuff had grown back in vengeance, Rey still momentarily stunned when she saw his facial hair. She’d only known a Ben who was clean shaven seventy-five percent of the time…not one emerging into lumberjack territory. “….as much I support… _this_ ,” she gestured to them, surrounded by clothes and laying numbly on the floor, “I also don’t want you to continue packing if it’s too much.”

“It’s not too much,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “It’s just me having a…a moment.”

“A _moment_?”

“A moment to…” he paused, head cocking to the side, before nodding slowly to himself. “A moment to process.”

“Alright…” she mumbled, staring up at the few remaining pieces of clothing hanging.

“When I was upset, usually after my dad left—he left a lot, but always came back— I’d hide in here.” He waved to the little space. Rey clearly imagined a tiny Ben hiding in the folds of clothes and piles of shoes in an effort to become invisible. She had the same instincts as a child as well, hiding in tight corners and places where her grandfather would never think to look. “Of course it was easier to hide in here when I was under five-feet tall.”

“I had no idea you were under five-feet tall—I thought you were just born a giant,” she quipped dryly. “Clearly, poor judgement on my part.”

Ben rolled his eyes, the corner of his lips twitching.

“Obviously,” he uttered deadpan, letting a soft chuckle follow. “While it does sort of hurt to know I’m throwing out all her things—

“Donating—you are donating,” she countered, knowing the pulse of guilt all to well in this situation, “And not _everything_ …just nothing of sentimental value or use.” She tossed up one of pencil skirts by her head in the air. It landed with a plop on top of Ben. “Because I highly doubt you are going to wear your mother’s clothes.”

“It’s be a fashion statement, for sure.”

“Oh _absolutely_ ,” she smirked, “all those sweaters and scarfs, not to mention those _powerhouse_ blazers—you’d make all the other politician’s sons quake in their shoes.”

“I’d be the spitting image of Leia Organa—just two feet taller.”

“But hair and chest to match to boot!”

The two erupted into spastic giggles, the absurdity of their conversation hitting with full force.

“Is it wrong we are laughing about this?” Rey wheezed.

“Of course not—my mother would _welcome_ the teasing,” Ben said between breaths. He picked up one of the dresses laying around, the pattern distinctly from the 80s. “Seriously—who’d want this?” he let the dress fall back down. “Maybe you’re right about the donating thing.”

“Of course, I’m right,” she toyed with the fabric of Leia’s favorite sweater, “and we’re keeping the sweater. Sentimental value always outweighs in the end.”

“ _Rey_!” Kaydel shouted up the stairs. “ _Ben! Dr. Andor says he’s gonna order pizza? Anything specific you want?_ ”

With a huff, Rey sat up—

Only to be pulled back down to Ben, she landing firmly against his chest.

“We need to go,” she reminded him, though didn’t dare try to leave his arms.

Ben gave a half shrug. “Or we can just hide in here forever? They aren’t going to listen to our choice of toppings with Mitaka around.”

“True,” she leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss on the tip of his nose before sitting back up, “But it is worth a shot and we can’t hide up here forever, as tempting as the offer may be.”

Standing up, she offered her hand.

Ben took her offer without hesitation.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

While they made a dent in packing away Leia’s belongings, not much appeared to be done from an outsiders perspective.

They’d been able to make the living room area the ‘keep’ section while the kitchen became the ‘donate’ section. Boxes were halfway filled and marked with Sharpie, ready for be full when work was resumed.

Rey expected Ben to be bothered by the seemingly lack of progress. Contrary to her belief, he was satisfied with their work, mentioning off hand how he planned to return in couple of days with Lando. He wanted to make sure his Uncle had a chance to keep an mementos from his best friends before Ben made final decisions.

Saying goodbye to their final guest—Mitaka, no surprise there—Ben closed the door with a sigh. “I want to say I missed them but…” he tilted his head to the side, a cringe emerging, “they can be a lot.”

“Oh really? Mitaka and Kaydel a lot?” Rey gasped out, folding one of the many blankets they found in a spare room and placing it in a ‘keep’ box. “I had _no_ idea.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” Ben deadpanned, making his way over to one of the boxes littering the living room. He perused the items, frowning. “Wow, I didn’t even know she kept these.” Carefully he lifted a few booklets and sketch books from the box, pieces of paper flopping out.

Rey crawled over, sitting beside him. “What is it?”

“My calligraphy,” he held up one of the fallen pieces of paper. An elegant loop of half a ‘b’ covered the majority of the page, followed by an ‘e’ and an ‘n’.

“It’s beautiful.”

He tucked the paper back into the booklet, stacking all the books to the side of the box. “I stopped years ago. Didn’t see the point of the activity when I was doing debate…at one point I wanted to make a profession of doing calligraphy,” he snorted, brushing off the dust from a leather sketchpad. “My dad laughed at me. But he didn’t tell me to stop, so I guess there is that.”

“Quite the optimist aren’t you?”

Ben shrugged, his lips wavering between a smile and a grimace. “I’d spend hours perfecting my calligraphy, But once day I quit and I tossed it all. She must have saved it when I wasn’t looking.”

“Maybe this is a sign you should take it back up again,” Rey suggested, looking through one of his old sketchbooks. Carefully crafted strokes and lines, delicate yet grand in appearance.

Ben scoffed at the idea. “I probably don’t even remember—it’s been over a decade.” He turned back to the box, removing a few more items—an old beanie, matching gloves, a couple of records, a journal or two.

She handed the sketchbook back to him. “Doesn’t hurt to try.”  

He added the sketchbook back to the pile, not lingering too long on it. He grabbed the beanie, fiddling with it. Hands feeling the loops and knots of the yarn with practice. The yarn was worn down, the black faded to a deep off-grey. Threading and needle work remained intact, but the material was stretched.

Fleetingly, Rey thought of a young Ben Solo. A teenager who hated the world. Who wanted to hide and learned how to be decent at it. His wavy hair more on the unruly curly side, his black beanie his mother made shoved on his head to cover his hair and ears.

Rey believed part of Ben would always be that boy; it was only now he was learning to embrace this side of him. Learning he couldn’t change the past nor forget it, but to accept and move forward.

“It’s weird…seeing all of this,” Ben motioned to his old things, clearing his throat. “I think I’m gonna have another moment, so…” he jutted his thumb behind him. “I’m going to get some water.”

She nodded, watching as he shakily stood up and ambled his way over to the kitchen.

In his wake sat the worn down beanie. With gentle fingers, afraid it would break at her touch, Rey examined the piece of knitwear.

Leia never did finish teaching Rey how to crochet. Only taught her the basics, barely showed her how to do the begins of a hat. A level up, since Rey completed a simple infinity scarf a few weeks back.

She hadn’t touched the needle and yarn since Leia’s passing.

A pull of dread consumed her every time she ventured to pick up where she left off. She was a little lost as to how to begin—she and Leia always crocheted in tandem, for the woman to be an aid in Rey’s efforts.

Now Rey was on her own to complete the project she didn’t know how to navigate.

The imagine of Ben wearing the black beanie flashed in her mind once more.

_She could…_

Rey was a quick study—she could pick up anything if given time, a book, and an example. She knew the basics of crocheting, maybe if she found some instructions she could finish what she and Leia started. And she had the _perfect_ example in her hand.

“Hey, for dinner maybe we should try that Chinese place?”

Upon hearing Ben’s voice, Rey stuffed the beanie in her sweater pocket.

“That sounds great. Want me to drive?” she called back, standing up from their piles of keepsakes and junk. She was starving, lunch hours ago, and some filling food was the best remedy.

“You, _drive the Falcon_? No, I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on Ben!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOOO. A lot happened. But this chapter I think sums up the majority of Ben's grief. He'll still be in mourning, but there is a lot going on his head in this chapter, and Rey unfortunately isn't privy to it and is forced to watch a little helplessly. But I think through watching Ben, Rey came to a few revelations about herself as well.
> 
> If it felt Rey was getting mixed advice from everyone, then that was sort of the point. No one tells you how to navigate these situations because everyone is different. So she is attempting to figure out to be a support, while also letting herself take moments to think and reflect. She truly doesn't want to screw this up, because she feels she's screwed up a bit in life.
> 
> Also I miss my little group, so we will definitely see Mitaka and Kaydel in the next chapter! I feel like we need their humor and antics to lighten up the story again. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers!


	10. ben solo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG CHAPTER.
> 
> AGAIN.
> 
> But I think y'all are going to like this one....it's different. You'll get it once you start reading (hint: has to do with POVs). I also think after reading this, a certain characters actions and reactions might be read a little differently :)
> 
> WARNING: HEAD ALL THE WARNINGS! Lots of deaths and funerals in this chapter!!! All deaths we all knew, but still. Angst galore with a dash of humor in this one.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later!
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

 

 

For most of his life, Death followed Ben Solo with anticipation.

From birth, it was relentless.

He’d been believed to be a stillborn at first glance, Ben not crying out when he came into the world. His mother and father had already been on the verge of tears at the realization their baby may have not survived, when earth shattering screeched came from his tiny lungs. A wailing both heartbreaking and relieving.

He’d been kept at the hospital for a few weeks, born premature with continued difficulty breathing.

However he lived and persisted.

Ben was born into a small family by most standards. Just his mom, his dad, his uncle, and his grandpa. His grandparents on his dad’s side passed away when his dad was a little boy and his mom’s adoptive parents had died a few years prior to his birth.

So it was just the five of them.

And he was fine with that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Ben was three, he accidentally killed his goldfish. Forgot to feed him when he spent the night at his Uncle’s house.

Han broke the news as gently as possible—

“He keeled over, kid.”

—well, as gentle as Han Solo was capable. Unlike his wife, he wasn’t gifted with words. An unfortunate trait Ben inherited.

Standing on his tip toes, Ben peeked into the circular fish bowl on the kitchen counter. There, Goldie, floated at the top. Bobbing up and down. Up and down. Kind of like his toy boats, but only sadder. Because Goldie wasn’t doing his usual thing of swimming.

“What does _keeled_ mean?” Ben asked, dipping a finger into the bowl and poking Goldie.

Nope.

Still floated like a toy boat.

“It means…” his dad scratched his head, face screwed up in confusion, “It means _like_ dying. But it’s a different word for it.”

“Like dying?” Ben repeated quietly.

He poked Goldie again.

More bobbing…like dying. Which meant Goldie was dead.

“Son, stop poking the fish.” A warm hand enveloped Ben’s, Han picking him up like a baby. A baby he decidedly was _not_ when his dad picked him up from Uncle Luke’s. But a baby he suddenly became when faced with his dead fish.

His dead fish who was his best friend.

“Dead.” Ben uttered, a pout on his lips.

Han patted his dark curls, getting them out of Ben’s face. “Yeah, buddy.”

Sniffing, Ben buried his face into Han’s neck, hugging him fiercely. Tiny, pitiful sobs soon spilled from his lips.

He didn’t want Goldie to die. He only had Goldie for a week—the poor fish had so much more life to live.

Rubbing his back, his dad pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I know. It hurts.”

“I-I-I,” blubbering, Ben pulled his face away, scrubbing at his tear stained eyes. “I _loved_ him.”

“Kid, sometimes,” his dead sighed tiredly, keeping his eyes leveled with him, “sometimes things and people we love die.”

“But why?”

“Because that’s just how it is.”

Little Ben took his father’s word as gospel, nodding mutely before burying his face back in Han’s neck. His dad always had the answer—even when they didn’t make sense—he had the answer.

And Ben didn’t have many people to ask questions to, with his mom off at work in an office at the capital.

So his Dad would have to do.

Carefully Han picked up the little fish bowl and brought them over to the hall restroom. He deposited Ben on the counter, before turning to the open toilet seat. Sniffing, Ben watched as his dad pull Goldie from his watery home and held the fish above the toilet bowl.

“Son, do you have any last words?” He cleared his throat at Ben’s little pinched eyebrows. He didn’t quite understand what his dad was asking of him. “Do you have anything you’d like to tell Goldie before we flush him back to the sea with his people?” Han clarified.

“Um,” Ben hummed in thought, his lips pinched together and eyes screwed shut. “I guess…I’ll love you and I’ll miss you, Goldie.”

He peeked an eye open, waiting for his dad’s approval.

Han nodded once—good enough.

And with a _plop_ Goldie was dropped into the toilet bowl and flushed away.

Han closed the toilet lid solemnly, and went back over to the sink to wash his hands. Fishes were a slimy; Ben realized he probably should have washed his hands too since he was poking at Goldie. Pumping an exceeding amount of soap in his hand, Ben pushed his hands under the faucet with Han’s. He scrubbed his hands like his Mommy taught him, the suds washing away all the sliminess.

His dad peeked over to him, apologetic. “I’m sorry, bud.” Han grabbed a towel and dried off both their hands. “How about we go get some ice cream to cheer us up?”

“But it’s the morning—Mommy says we can’t have ice cream in the mornings.”

Swiftly, Han picked Ben up, causing him to giggle. He marched them out of the restroom to the front door, pocketing his keys on his way out. “Ben, what Mommy doesn’t know won’t kill her,” he assured his boy. “It’ll be our little secret.”

Ben smiled at the thought—their little secret.

(A secret he spilled almost immediately when he saw his Mommy the next day. But it was their secret.)

 

 

Death, however did not stop with a mere goldfish (rest in peace Goldie) but to other pets Ben accumulated throughout his childhood. A few more goldfish who could not survive for more than a week at most. Then he’d have cats who’d run away, only to come back sick and pass away.

His dad would comfort him the only way he knew how; a small makeshift funeral, a few words spoken, and then a trip to the ice cream shop in downtown.

Then there was the greatest loss of all—Chewie the First.

Chewie had been his dad’s dog. A diligent, if not moody, mutt Han owned before he ever met Leia and Luke. Before Ben was even a thought. For a long time it was Han and Chewie against the world.

Ben always liked the bond his dad had with Chewie. They were buddies and had a unspoken communication. Not to mention, Chewie put Han in his place and gave him affection whenever his dad came home.

He hoped one day he’d have a dog like Chewie; one that loved unconditionally and gave the best slobbery kisses.

The great fluffy hound died of old age, something no one but time could control.

There wasn’t a doggy funeral for Chewie, his dad shaking his head sadly at the idea. Though he did bury his best friend out on his favorite spot in their backyard.

From the glass sliding door, Ben watched his dad place the last patch of dirt over the mound. Shoulders hunched and a light sweat on his brow despite the cold December air, his dad was weary.

So eight year old Ben helped Han the only way he knew how—he got his dad ice cream.

Serving the chocolate chip was messy and Ben had to wipe up more ice cream off the floor than in the bowl, but he got a good couple of scoops for him and his dad.

Upon being handed the bowl, Han’s eyebrows jumped. This his tired grief softened, he ruffling Ben’s moppy head of hair.

“Thanks, son.”

And together they sat in the living room, eating their ice cream, both thinking about how Chewie would try to sneak a lick when they weren’t looking.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ben never wanted a sibling.

Luckily, he never got one.

But he did always wonder about babies.

Squishy looking, small, and sleeping what seemed to be all the time. He’d only seen babies in passing, watching them curiously though never had the opportunity to see one up close.

Until now.

“Make sure if you wash your hands before you touch the baby,” Anakin reminded a ten year old Ben was they crossed the street to the Old Ben’s townhouse. “She’s only a couple of months old.”

Ben nodded diligently, not wanting to get any of the Kenobi’s upset by getting their new baby sick or germ infested. Ben liked the Kenobi’s, especially Old Ben, his apparent namesake. The old man would babysit him from time to time, letting Ben pick whatever book he wanted from his bookshop to keep. They’d read together, or Old Ben would tell fun stories about his days with Grandpa Ani when they were kids.

But this was bigger than any old visit—Old Ben was now a grandpa to a little baby girl.

Ben knew the baby was born a couple of months back, Old Ben leaving for a few weeks to be with his daughter and her baby at their home on the outskirts of Jakku, Nevada. But now Old Ben’s family had moved back into town, which meant everyone could finally meet little baby Kenobi.

Taking the front stairs two steps at a time, Ben dashed ahead of his grandpa and knocked on the front door. A second later, the door opened to reveal a smiling Ben Kenobi, he moving to the side to allow the two into the house.

“Didn’t think you two would make it.”

“Left later and hit some traffic in Republic Square,” Anakin explained. “Kid’s parents have him on a tight leash these days.”

“Whys that?”

“Fight at school.”

Ben felt the heat rise to his cheeks at the mention of the fight. It wasn’t his fault, he was just… _upset_ and couldn’t get the right words out.

“What happened?”

“He won’t say.”

“Where’s the baby?” Ben interjected before he could hear any more of the ‘hushed’ conversation.

Old Ben’s eyes lit up at the mention of ‘baby,’ leading Ben further into the house. “You both came in the nick of time, she just woke up from her nap.”

Entering the living room Ben saw the playpen, little chubby legs and arms kicking in the air clumsily. Peering over the railing, bright hazel eyes met Ben with shocking intensity.

A gurgle then bubbled out of her, eyes widening at the sight of him.

Ben held his breath, wondering what the baby was going to do. Was she going to cry? Was she going to giggle, or smile?

Instead the moment passed, she completely disinterested in him and staring at the mobile hanging above her head.

Ben frowned.

Was this all babies did? Stare and then look away. Drool and then fart.

A warm hand rested on his shoulder. Ben looked up to see Old Ben gazing fondly down at the baby. “Ben meet Rey.”

The boy’s nose scrunched up. “Hi,” he mumbled at her.

Rey didn’t even notice. She was more interested in her hand, as though realizing it existed for the first time ever.

Old Ben nudged him playfully. “Would you like to hold her?”

“No,” Ben uttered honestly.

However, the two adults thought he was joking, chuckling at his comment. They ushered Ben to the couch, baby Rey suddenly in his arms moments later.

“Make sure you are supporting her head,” Old Ben told him, helping place his hands in the right spots to keep Rey upright in Ben’s arms.

Rey was not pleased by this movement, her tiny face scrunching up. A sharp whine came from her, fists tight and batting at the air.

And then _it_ happened—

Rey spat up a mouth full of white-yellowish liquid, it smelling like milk and burp. The sticky liquid drippled down her chin, into her neck and onto his hand.

“ _EW_!”

Ben squirmed, Old Ben coming to take the baby away with a coo. “It happens sometimes. Babies can spit up—”

“It’s gross, it’s gross,” the boy cried out, holding his hand out with disgust as he dashed to the bathroom, the sound of the two men’s laughter coming from down the hall.

After that incident, Ben refused to hold baby Rey ever again when he and Grandpa Ani visited. Which worked out, despite the initial disappointment from Old Ben.

“I just wanted you two to _bond_ , Little Ben,” he ruffled his moppy dark hair, “Rey will need someone to look after her when she gets old.

At that moment, Rey threw her plush rabbit at Ben. The toy bounced off his face, landing on his lap.

“I think she can take of herself just fine,” the boy declared, glaring at the giggling baby.

While Ben wasn’t incredibly close to Rey—she was a baby after all and he was _ten_ — their families were practically inseparable. Spending holidays together, going on vacations together, having dinner together. Together, together, together—all the time.

Until they weren’t.

“Never again!”

“But Dad, he’s your best friend,” Leia insisted, rubbing her temples, “I think you two can settle your differences for your life long friendship. You can’t just let it _die_ like this.”

“He lied to me!”

“To protect you—what would you have done, hm? Gone running back to your mother?”

“Yes!”

“But then you would have never married, Mom. Or had Luke and I—”

“Look where that got me! I didn’t even get to raise you two.”

From the bottom of the stairs, Ben listened as his grandpa and mom roared at each other back and forth over what could have been. Old grudges brought to light from between the two of them, to the Kenobi’s to other former colleagues his grandpa kept in contact. He couldn’t decipher or pinpoint all the names or people, but he knew he wouldn’t be going to Old Ben’s house for a long time.

He wouldn’t be seeing one of his favorite people for a long time. Who else was going to sneak him the latest Harry Potter book before it’s official release? Or tell him which Shakespeare’s were the best? He only just started reading _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ with Old Ben, he doing all the voices.

Swallowing the dry lump in his throat, Ben quietly dashed up the stairs and into his parent’s room. He beelined to closet, closing the door behind him. Plopping himself on the floor, he sniffled as snot moistened in his nose uncomfortably.

He wished his dad was there—his dad sometimes made arguments worse, but at least he ended them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Death not only affected human or animal morality.

The grim reaper came for relationships too. Grandpa Ani and Old Ben were a testament to such grievances.

Han and Leia were unfortunate victims as well.

Growing up, Ben never once believed his parents had the perfect marriage. He’d be an idiot to believe such nonsense. Ben Solo was many things (asshole, dipshit, goth-kid, emo, nerd, hothead…the list could go on), but he wasn’t an idiot.

He heard his parents arguments. He knew Mom and Dad only saw each other once a month if they were lucky. Mom was a senator, Dad was racecar driver, both were activist. Their jobs and causes meant more to them than coming home to spend quality family time together.

That’s why Grandpa Ani and Uncle Luke lived with them. Built in babysitters for Ben when both Mom and Dad were off saving their little corners of the world, while their toddler learned to count and potty train.

In the beginning Dad would try to be there when Mom wasn’t. After all, Leia was a young mother and a young politician—only one of those titles were planned.

“You were an accident. Everyone knows that!” Kids teased when he was in elementary school.

So Ben fought them, resulting in suspension.

Neither of his parents came home after being informed of the incident, leaving Uncle Luke to handle the punishment.

“Clean the first floor of the house. Scrub every nook and cranny,” Uncle Luke ordered, handing the ten year old the cleaning supplies. “And maybe then you’ll realize violence is never the answer Benjamin.”

He did as told. Though that did not stop another fight to occur. Once again, Ben punished with chores, his Uncle at a loss over what else to do.

_“You’re an idiot!”_

And then another fight…

_“No one likes you! Everyone just pretends because of your mom!”_

…another…

_“A shit face like you will never be anything!”_

…And another.

To the point his parents had to come back, switch his schools to a local academy for ‘gifted’ minds and a promise to discuss matters later.

‘Later’ of course meant never.

So life continued on where Ben would bury himself in school work (He needed to make the grades to prove himself; to who? He wasn’t too sure.), answered his parent’s infrequent calls, be forced to endure dinners with Grandpa Ani and Uncle Luke, and poorly manageed his ever present depression and anger. No one in the house realized a couple of bottles from the bar were missing and Ben replaced them before a question could even bothered to be ask.

A haze of rinse and repeat. One Ben knew well, one that changed ever so slightly but would roughly remain the same for years to come.

Somewhere in the months between freshman and sophomore year the status of his parent’s relationship reached him via a news channel.

 

_‘SENATOR ORGANA FILES FOR DIVORCE’_

“And neither of you were going to tell me?” Ben wailed over the house phone his Uncle attempting to calm him down. He shrugged Luke away, locking himself in the bathroom. Not bothering to turn the lights on, Ben sunk to the floor, crumpling into a corner.

“We were planning on telling you, Ben,” Leia assured him over the phone between sessions at the capital. “I just found out it was leaked—”

“But you should have told me you were thinking about it,” his voice cracked, echoing in the small room. Sniffing, he wiped his face with the back of his hand.

“Because…because we just didn’t, okay? This does not concern you, Ben. This is between Mom and Dad—”

“But I’m your son!”

“Honey—I need to get going. I promise we will talk when I get back home—”

“I don’t want to talk to you—I _never_ want to talk to you again!”

His mother fell silent, a sharp inhale coming from her side of the line.

“Al-alright, son,” she murmured, “Alright. Well, I love you and I hope to see you soon.”

The line went dead before Ben could respond.

Squeeze his eyes shut, he screamed. He screamed until his throat was sore and his face was numb. Legs and arms thrashed about— _thump, thump, thump_ — until he convulsed into hiccupping sobs.

Faintly he knew his Grandpa and Uncle called for him. Knocked on the door, begged then ordered for him to come out.

But Ben didn’t.

He sat there in the dark for hours.

While he understood to an extent maybe why his parents filed for divorce—they argued like cats and dogs, and rarely spent time with each other— Ben could not contain his resentment for how he found out:

A fucking political news channel his grandpa always had on in the living room.

He, her own flesh and blood, found out when the rest of the world did and no one bothered to make a peep about it before hand.

“Son, I need you to open the door.”

The familiar grumble caused Ben to perk up.

He scrambled from the floor, struggling to open the door with his sweaty palms.

Once the door opened, Ben barely registered his father was standing before him, somehow there despite being in Indiana that morning. Without much thought, he threw his arms around Han in a crushing embrace.

“It’s okay, son. It’s okay,” he muttered, hugging him back just as fiercely. “I’m sorry. We’ll be okay.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Ben saw little Rey was at a funeral—the small girl’s parent’s funeral.

Little did he know, they’d be at the same funerals for years to come. An unfortunate circumstance, but one Ben forced himself to face time and time again.

He was fifteen, lanky and gloomy, refusing to engage with anyone besides Grandpa Ani.

She was four maybe five if he wanted to be generous, looking small and lost amongst the other mourners.

Her hand clung to her grandfather’s, watching as others cried around her with confusion. Several family friends murmured about the accident, alcoholism, and self-sentence of death. Dear Old Ben simply patted the girl’s head and continued with the proceedings. But to keep her in the dark about such matters than have her questioning what ‘addiction’ meant.

It wasn’t until the reception after the burial did Ben bump into the little girl.

He’d been tired of all the hands grabbing is face and telling him ‘how much he’d grown’ and ‘how he looked so much like his father’ and the winning question ‘did he have a girlfriend yet’.

All comments were ignored, especially the last one, Ben going up the stairs to venture off into the rest of the townhouse. As he passed the upstairs study, he heard a little sniffle coming from inside the room. Nudging it open, he found little Rey curled up on her grandfather’s arm chair, a copy of _Jane Eyre_ sat unopened on her lap.

“I can’t read it,” she said, eyes watering. “It’s too hard for me.”

She lifted the book towards him. “Can you read it to me? _Please_!”

He remembered how she spat up on him—

But she was five now. Five year old didn’t spit up food like babies.

And her parents did die…

“Fine,” he agreed with a huff. He slumped into the room, waving at her to move. “I need to sit.”

She crawled off the armchair, her poufy black dress puffing up and swishing at every little movement. Ben sat down, snatching the book from her. Easily he flipped it over to the beginning of chapter one.

“ _There was no possibility of taking a walk_ —”

The little girl began to crawl on to his lap, shoving arms away to make room.

“What are you doing?” He was prepared to stand up and let Rey fall to the floor without any remorse.

She blinked up at him with her big hazel eyes. “You’re gonna to read to me.”

“Yeah but—”

She curled to his side and pointed to the page. “Read to me.”

Realizing she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, he allowed her to get comfortable. He’d let the kid have this one—a pity reading.

Ben started again. _“There was no possibility of taking a walk…”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

“But isn’t that far?”

“It’s the best school in the country,” Ben insisted to his mother over the phone. “Why don’t you want me to go?”

A heavy sigh came from her end of the line. “It’s not that I don’t want you to go, Ben. I want you to do what ever your heart desires, within reason.” Ben rolled his eyes; she meant ‘within her reason’. “But I am almost done with this term and I am not planning on running for the senate seat again. I thought maybe if you went to university closer you’d—”

“What? Spend time with you, have us all be a happy little family?” Ben snapped, his hand on the house phone clenching.

From his seat on the recliner, Grandpa Ani watched as Ben paced the living room back and forth, then back and forth with troubled eyes.

“That ship sailed before I was even born, Mom.” Absentmindedly, Ben tugged on the black knit cap, securing it over his head. “I am leaving whether you like it or not.”

Leia was not taking any of his comments, her hackles rising at his snappy attitude. “Can you just stop for a moment and listen to yourself! You are picking battles at every turn; can’t we just have a mature conversation?”

“If you want to have a conversation with me, why aren’t you here? Why aren’t you having it face to face with me, hmm?”

“Because I am at work—”

“If you’d really care you’d be here. Plain and simple,” he declared, leaving no room for argument.

His mother, of course, always found a way to wiggle in another word. “Ben, I don’t understand! I have tried my best—I put you in the best schools, made sure you had the best tutors, donated to all your extra-curriculars. You use to be this joyful boy, you’d radiate sunshine, but know all you do is arguing with everyone—not listening to your Uncle or Grandfather. The world is not _against you,_ Ben. It has been fighting for you since you were born and you for some reason can’t see that.”

His throat constricted, feeling the sting of unshed tears behind his eyes.

“Whatever,” he muttered, hanging up without much else to say. He tossed the cordless phone on to the couch. “She drives me insane, Grandpa.”

The usual quip of arrogance or equal angst did not ring back to Ben.

Frowning, he turned back to his grandpa. The older man was slouching on the recliner, his head lulled heavily to the side.  

“Grandpa,” Ben uttered, rushing to the older man. He shook him, the man not waking from his efforts. “ _Grandpa_!”

Pressing his shaking hands under his grandfather’s chin and then to his wrinkled wrist, Ben could not feel a pulse no matter how hard he tried.

He could not feel anything.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The funeral was held on a Sunday. Both his parents showed along with Uncle Luke.

Old Ben showed up, tugging little Rey along. She had the decency to look sad this go around, understanding someone had died and was never coming back.

She was given a rose to throw on top of the casket like everyone else.

Instead, she handed it to him when she and her grandfather stood in front of him in line.

“You looked like you really loved him, so you should have two.”

Ben realized the girl's attitude matched her name, her gesture a ray of kindness on a rather painful day.

A kind gesture Ben would never forget.

 

* * *

 

 

College was the best and worst time of Ben’s life.

The best because he was finally away from it all—his family, the pressures of being Leia Organa and Han Solo’s son.

The worst because college did not solve all his problems, in fact going away made the situation between him and his parents worse.

Phone calls ignored on both ends, miscommunicated voicemails. Ben did not make it any better when he refused to come back home for the holidays.

“We always spend Christmas together.”

“Well, what if we start a new tradition?” Ben countered. “We celebrate the holiday apart.”

“Who are you even going to be with on the holiday?”

Ben didn’t answer, knowing his mother would find a way to fly out to him if he said ‘no one’. So he hung up, leaving the conversation hanging.

Making friends was never easy for Ben and the skill followed him into college. Academics were the one aspect of his life structured and controlled, Ben throwing himself into his work with reckless abandon while his weekends were filled with being to dragged to whatever party his roommate decided to go to that night. He’d sit in the corner, drinking cheap beer as his peers got shitfaced and passed out in the living room. Sometimes he’d be kind and make sure they had a pillow under their head and bucket beside them, Ben able to hold his liquor far better than anyone expected from the ‘too cool to socialize emo kid’.

He’d wonder when this became him. When things he enjoyed faded into oblivion—he could not recall the last time he watched a movie he liked or ate his favorite brand of cereal. His music tastes all but tanked, juvenile pop usually blasting from his roommate’s speakers, and if not his, then their neighbors.

Life was haze, Ben merely shuffling through to get to the other side. Doing what he needed to do, doing what he felt he should have been doing at this stage of his life.

Ultimately, he felt empty.

He recalled making out with a girl once at one of the parties, though gave up on the endeavor halfway through when they both realized he wasn’t the least bit turned on, not even half hard.

She suggested he had depression.

He told her to fuck off.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s an internship and it will make your resume look half decent when you graduate,” his academic advisor suggested, sliding the document over. “First Order Attorneys usually take a crop load of students every summer. A few are able to make it to be part times inters once the semester starts. I think you have a good shot.”

“And…if I am doing a school sponsored or partnered internship, I can still live on campus?”

His advisor, Qi’ra, rolled her eyes. “Yes, Ben. You’d still be able to live on campus. It’d be wavier if you fill in the forms on time. So fill in the forms.”

Listening to Qi’ra, the only person who seemed to give a damn about him at his university, Ben filled out the forms and mail them out almost immediately after their meeting.

 

 

* * *

 

 

First Order Attorneys wasn’t necessarily a bad place.

But not a great place.

Ben realized this within the first hour of his internship.

But he was paid, he just needed to grunt work like making copies and picking up lunches, and attend the seminar once a week. Not too bad for an internship from the horror stories he heard in passing.

So he kept his head down, did as told, and only lost his temper in the confines of the handicap bathroom. No one really cared and no one really noticed him.

That was until one of the partners in the firm did.

“Aren’t you Senator Organa’s boy?” Mr. Snoke commented when Ben dropped off the man’s coffee.

“I just have one of those faces.”

“You are,” Mr. Snoke continued, ignoring Ben’s lie. “I’m surprised her offspring would want to be a lawyer, let alone a criminal defense lawyer.”

“This is just an internship,” Ben answered, not too keen on how Mr. Snoke referred to his mother with such disdain. “I have no interest in becoming a lawyer.”

“Then what do you want to do boy?”

Ben shrugged, never putting much thought into his life beyond getting into a good college. “I’m an English major—I’ll probably just teach since I don’t hate kids too much.”

“Don’t be a waste Solo. With your mother’s genes and name, you have the potential to become the best lawyer this side of the west coast.”

“I’d prefer to make my own legacy,” Ben uttered, effectively ending the conversation.

He asked his supervisor if he could switch shifts, and Ben never had to bring Mr. Snoke a coffee for the remainder of his summer internship.

Which left Ben surprised to find he was one of the lucky few who’d been asked to come back for the fall semester internship.

 

 

* * *

 

 

With the First Order, Ben learned there was such a thing as killing your own soul softly.

After the first summer, he’d been swept into a never ending cycle with the First Order. Internship after internship with the firm, followed by working as an paralegal once he graduated from university. With both Snoke and Canady’s urgency, he continued his education while working full time, pushing himself beyond his limits.

Sleepless nights were the usual. Forgetting to eat happened on the regular. Reading harrowing tales about the men and women their firm willingly defended, First Order taking the obvious and most guilty clients forced Ben to drink more to let the words blur on the page. Day after day, night after night, a piece of Ben chipped away as the hours and reality of work crashed upon him.

He couldn’t do it. And any time he attempted to quit, turn in his two week noticed, Snoke tore words through Ben with little remorse.

“We have been preparing you for years, you are the future of the First Order!”

Ben ran away from one legacy only to be yanked into the arms of another. He was utterly and perpetually trapped, with no way out.

With the stress of work and his ever present depression (a fact of reality he learned to accept but was too afraid to do anything about), it was now surprise he woke up one morning to find he wasn’t in his studio apartment.

No.

He woke up to the blinding florescent lights and confines of a hospital bed.

“Ben…Ben are you awake?” his mother’s insistent voice called out in the fog of his lingering slumber.

“Wha—what happened?”

“Honey, you were found passed out in your apartment. They think…they think you were trying…” her words trailed off, her voice heavy. “Son, sweetheart, I need to know were you…were you trying to kill—”

Blinking away his blurry vision, Ben turned away from her before she could finish her question.

He believed they both knew the answer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

With the urge from his parents and uncle, Ben admitted himself to a rehab facility for a month.

Pettily, he went during the month of December, once again unable to come home for Christmas.

Did he purposely choose a facility that _didn’t_ focus on alcoholism….maybe. Was he doing this just to please his parents, who would not stop visiting him since the incident…absolutely.

He did as told in the facility—attending therapy sessions, getting examined by doctors, etcetera— knowing he could checkout whenever he so desired, pulling the ‘family legacy’ card when questioned.

For a couple of weeks he was able to handle the withdrawals. However, once the third week rolled around, Ben knew he needed to get the fuck out of there.

The only plus he recognized in his entire ‘rehab adventure’ as his mother liked to put it, was he was official diagnosed with depression and anxiety. At least he didn’t walk away with nothing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What do you mean you haven’t quit?” Han asked as the two drove through the pouring February rain.

After much deflection, Ben finally relented to going to Sunday night dinners with his parents. He was trying to be ‘better,’ and being ‘better’ apparently meant spending more time with family. He attempted to get out of this one by claiming he drank—which he did—and could not drive.

Leia, of course, was not taking any excuses and sent her husband (the husband she decidedly never divorced despite the hell it caused) to go pick him up.

“I said what I said,” Ben muttered, shifting in the passage seat.

“I thought you said you were going to leave the firm,” Han said with huff. “You never liked being a lawyer, Ben. You hate it and you are a godawful liar.”

“It pays well.”

“That’s never a reason to keep a job that is making you miserable to the point you want to kill yourself.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself! Why can’t anyone accept that?” Ben shot back, scrubbing his face.

Sure, he and his dad did not see eye to eye on serval matters, such as composting or using energy efficient vehicles. His dad thought the Cubs were the best while Ben would argue the Dodgers were clearly better. They didn’t always agree, but arguments—arguments about things that _mattered_?

No, that that never happened.

He and dad weren’t the arguing until their faces were blue type; their hearts were to soft for each other to speak that way.

“Well, it sure as hell looked like it and it terrified us!” Han’s gruff voice cracked, he leaning towards the windshield to see better. “Son, we just want you to be happy. If that means not working a while and living with us until you figure it out, were fine with that.”

“Dad…”

“I’m serious, we can afford it and I think it would help us all, ya know with everything going on.”

Ben frowned, a red flag going off in his brain. “What do you mean ‘everything going on’?”

A tired sigh came from his dad. “There’s some stuff going on with your mom. We don’t have to get into it now, but we can talk about it later.”

Despite all his lack of tact, Ben knew when not to push a topic with his dad. “Alright, later. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Han flicked on his blinker, making a left turn—

Only to hit impact.

\--

Once Ben was released from the hospital, the only Solo man to do so, he knew what he had to do.

 

“Hi, I’m Ben and I’m an alcoholic.”

 

* * *

 

 

At his father’s funeral, Ben saw _her_ again.

Older. Must have been nineteen or twenty. He wasn’t too sure.

Old Ben hung on her arm, leading him to the casket. Together they dropped their roses, before leaving. Understandable considering it was a public burial, several people from numerous places around the world gathering to say goodbye to Han Solo.

His mother refused to speak, their little family having there own private memorial days prior. Instead she stood away from the crowds with her brother and son, letting Lando take the reins on the service.

The following day Ben moved back home and went with his mother to her first chemo.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Moving back home reminded Ben there was always life after death.

While he’d always been closer to his father than his mother, Ben tried to learn who Leia Organa truly was beyond the role of his mother. Time was ticking and he wanted to make every moment count.

He learned she loved to crochet. Tried to teach him once, he failing spectacularly. But that didn’t mean she stopped making little gifts for him as she did when he was a boy.

Her favorite movie was _Roman Holiday_ , she crying for hours after watching. They’d watch it together at least once a week. And he learned how to cook her favorite pasta dish just because he had had the time and he could.

He quit his job and didn’t look back. Ben decided to finally do what he wanted; become an English teacher.

Ironically, to become a high school teacher Ben had to go back to school, completing some classes and exam to receive his teaching credential. His mornings were devoted to his mother, while is afternoons were devoted to school.

Uncle Luke was hesitant about this new transition in their lives, still warry around Ben, but he could not deny his nephew was trying. _Absolutely_ trying his best even if it turned to shit.

With all going better and the changes occurring, his uncle not so subtly dropped a pamphlet on Ben’s lap when the mother and son were watching _Roman Holiday_ again.

_Takodana Wellness Center_

  * _Individual and Group Therapy_



Ben got the hint and scheduled an appointment. He knew just because he was doing okay now, didn’t mean he’d be okay forever and he knew therapy wasn’t terrible. It just took some opening up. Some opening up he was not always willing to give so freely.

“So what brings you in here today, Ben?” the therapist, Dr. Andor asked with little pressure. He sat across from Ben in the cozy office, adjusting his own pillow behind his back on the office chair.

The white noise machines whirred and the coffee dripped into the pot, the noises comforting, reminding Ben mornings where everything is still and awaiting patiently. Ben always did like mornings.

“I…I don’t think I have ever been happy,” Ben confessed bluntly, “and I don’t know what to do to fix that?”

“When was the last time you remember being happy, Ben?”

For some reason, all he could remember was when his stupid goldfish died. He cried for a good few hours, and Han…Han tried his best to make him giggle and smile.

“When my dad and I went out for ice cream together after my goldfish died. It was our secret because we weren’t allowed to eat ice cream at ten in the morning.”

Dr. Andor smiled. “He sounds like he was a cool man.”

“Yeah…yeah, he was the best.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“A dog?” Leia asked, a little surprised. She glanced back at the animal shelter, eyeing the building warily. “But son, you’ve _never_ been good with pets.”

Both remembered the numerous pet funerals Ben endured as a child. Both remembered the loveable and loyal Chewie. Both knew heartache came with each and every one.

Taking the key out of the ignition, Ben did not falter at her words. “My therapist recommended it—need to pick a hobby, find something that brings me joy, to add to my routine,” he prattled off, almost word for word with Dr. Andor’s scripted response.

“And your solution is a _dog_?”

“Yes,” Ben declared. He ran to other side of the Falcon, helping get the door for his mother. “I always wanted a dog of my own and I have the time to take care of one.”

Leia sighed, taking his arm gratefully. “Then why am I here?”

“Because I want the dog to like you too.”

She smiled at his thoughtfulness, patting his hand. “Alright, alright. Lead the way.”

Naturally, he was shown puppies and fully grown dogs, some too lively, others indifferent to him. His mother was distracted by some poodles, yorkies, and a French bulldog who would not leave her alone, leaving Ben to venture on his own. After taking a few steps further down the row, he noticed some movement from what appeared to be an empty kennel.

Coming closer, Ben realized a small, all black haired dog was hiding in the corner, away from eyes looking for adoption. The pup licked his paws sadly, eyeing Ben with sharp fear, not daring to look away.

“That little guy not fond of many people,” one of the volunteers said, catching where Ben’s eye wandered. “He’s a rescue, found out in the deserts of Tatooine, had to foster him for a few months to get him back to a healthy weight.”

“What happened to him?” Ben found himself asking.

“We’re not too sure. We think he’s a boxer-lab mix, probably will grow to be a big guy. Considering where he was found, we think he was left to die out there,” she woman explained.

“What?” Ben blanched at the information, edging closer to the kennel. The pup perked up, pushing himself further into the corner.

“Sometimes when families move or a loved one passes away, people go a leave their dogs out to die because they don’t want to take care of them anymore,” she sighed. “This little guy is a trooper, surviving out there for so long.”

A dog, just left out to _die_? A puppy no less, who had already endured hardships just because no one wanted him. It felt wrong—the little guy all alone, for reasons he did not understand.

Swallowing, Ben held his hand out for the pup to sniff.

A couple minutes passed, Ben waiting patiently. After a while, the dog realized Ben wasn’t going to take off. Walking closer, her bumped his nose against Ben’s hand, sniffing coolly.

Miraculously, he licked. And licked again, budding his head against Ben’s hand, urging him to scratch behind his ear.

“I’ll take him.”

To this day, adopting Kylo was one of the best decisions Ben ever made.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Luke passed, Ben was angry.

He kicked down the chairs in the waiting room and smashed his hand on the wall. Thankfully, he wasn’t injured too badly, just some bruised knuckles.

And then he felt everything and nothing. A strange sort of peace.

While he despised Luke for relatively petty reasons—being his upspoken guardian, hashing out punishments sent by his parents, the person who insisted he turn down his music and eat his broccoli. Despite all his grumbling and overprotectiveness, Luke wasn’t _bad_.

Well not as bad as Ben often made him out to be.

Luke _tried_.

Tried over and over again, listening when no one would listen. Sure, he didn’t agree with Ben on numerous matters, but Ben did not doubt the love his uncle had for him.

So he sucked it up—the grief of losing someone who cared, someone who didn’t deserve to die younger than expected—sucked up how he felt for his mother’s sake because Leia didn’t deserve to lose her husband and her brother in the span of six months.

That was cruel bullshit.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The funeral was a quiet affair, only a few friends coming to say their goodbyes.

Old Ben came alone; no one seemed to question it. Afterall, his granddaughter—uh what’s her name; Ben couldn’t remember for the life of him— was a fully grown woman. Tagging along with her grandfather to a funeral of a man she did not know? Absurd.

“He thought of you as his own, you know,” Old Ben told him once the casket was lowered. There was a low chatter about having an early dinner together amongst their small group, Ben partially listening has his mother and Lando walked ahead. “Never had children of his own. He and I spoke on it often.”

“You two spoke?” Ben was surprised. He thought all ties were cut off from the Kenobi family after the ‘betrayal.’ He never once thought his Uncle would keep contact with Old Ben despite their close mentorship in their younger years.

“At least once a week,” the old man said with a cough. Seeing Ben’s confusion, Old Ben gave him a melancholy grin. “Your grandfather was prone to unnecessary grudges. I learned which battles to fight and when to let go. Thankfully, your Uncle did not care much of that negativity. He’s like your grandmother in that way.”

Ben held back his tongue at the mention of his grandmother. A woman rarely spoken of, gone before he knew her, gone before Luke and Leia knew her. She was like a ghost. A ghost of a woman Ben could not help but feel he’d love and connect with if they ever had the opportunity to meet. One who’d teach him how to embrace his innate gentle nature rather than give into the luring chaos that went against him.

“I’m glad you two spoke often,” Ben said once he found his voice again.

Old Ben hummed, leaning heavily on his cane. Without much thought, Ben interlocked their arms and gave the man the support he needed for their trek.

“It’s a strange thing knowing the boy you held as a babe is now grown and gone,” the older man muttered. “These Skywalkers gave me headaches for all my life…but there are very few of you left now.”

“That’s…a way to put it.” Feeling the older man’s hand trembled, Ben patted his arm. “Luke would call you every week?”

“Yes—Wednesdays one-ten on the dot. It’s the only time I get to myself without my poor granddaughter hovering. I love the child, but she’s too hard on herself. Doesn’t quite understand she should let this old man go,” he said, an empty chuckle coming from deep within. “But yes. Wednesdays, one-ten on the dot.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ben wasn’t too sure why he was doing it, but he found himself calling Old Ben every week on Wednesday, one-ten on the dot.

Their conversations were sometimes long, sometimes short. Sometimes Old Ben brought up some old stories from Ben’s childhood. How the boy would have sticky fingers and run up and down the house with exuberance.

Occasionally he’d mention his granddaughter—

“The child simply works too hard,” he’d moan. “Were you like that at twenty-one? Essentially working two jobs, never sleeping? Spending all your free time with an old man?”

“Uh,” Ben winced; he couldn’t really remember being twenty-one. Just too ambitious. Just a little too drunk. “Maybe? It’s all a blur now.”

Old Ben grunted. “She just needs to get laid,” he joked with a tsked. “Too uptight, that one.”

Ben attempted to hide his snort. “Maybe she has her reasons,” he tried to defend the poor young woman.

“Eh, maybe. I just…I just don’t want her to resent me one day. Blame me for making her feel like she had to choose.”

“I don’t think she does. By the sound of it, she adores you.”

Old Ben didn’t reply to the comment, changing the subject that go around.

While family would come up often between the younger and elder Ben. How Old Ben’s granddaughter was doing with college—she graduated early and was already working. Still hovered too much, if not worse than before. How Leia was doing with treatments—after a year, she finally went into remission. Thankfully she didn’t jump back into work; instead she spent the days

 However, rarely were stories of a young Anakin ever brought up.

That is until Old Ben mentioned Padme, Ben’s long deceased grandmother, in passing.

“How did they meet?” he asked. “Grandpa Ani never mentioned her—too much heartbreak I believe.”

“Met in school,” Old Ben offered willingly. “She was a couple of years older. Came from old money,” he explained. “Your grandfather didn’t. I think you can piece together the rest.”

Ben hummed, knowing Old Ben and Anakin were foster brothers, growing up without knowing anything about their linage beyond my some names.

“A bit of forbidden love?”

“You can say that,” Old Ben quipped.

“What was she like? Padme?”

“There are no words. She was simply brilliant in every way,” he said before tacking on, “if not a bit too nosey for her own good. Got her into trouble more often than not. Though she had a way with words…”

Ben smiled as Old Ben continued to wax poetry on Padme. Maybe she wasn’t so much a ghost, but a living somehow in himself and his mother.

 

 

* * *

 

 

With each conversation, Ben felt a little less lost, Old Ben providing some light to his family, to life, to being a half decent man. The Kenobi poured wisdom and regret and hope like a waterfall, always patient with Ben and his questions.

Their renewed companionship caused Ben to realize he hadn’t stepped foot into the bookshop, ‘ _Kenobi’s Book Nook’_ in years. The last he must had been was in his teens, to pick up an collector’s edition of _Fahrenheit 451_ , a specific edition no one in town except Kenobi’s seemed to have at the time.

So on one rainy spring evening, Ben made the venture to the little sliver of a bookshop in downtown. The shop was warm and dry, soft indie music playing in the background. A rich smell of fresh coffee and books mingled in the air; a cliché at its finest, but a comforting one. A kid and his mother walked through the stacks, while a couple of teen girls crowded around the YA novel section. A couple of loners scattered around the sitting area, books out, nursing a cup of coffee.

To say he was surprised customers was an understatement; big internet warehouses were stealing the book market with ease, yet it was no match against local loyalty. Then again, he _shouldn’t_ have been surprised. Kenobi’s shop had been there forever, the man adored by the community.

Without much urgency, Ben meandered through the stacks. He’d pick up a book, read the back, hum and put it back down. Nothing was catching his eye, nothing was sparking his interest. Yet it had nothing to do with the books laid out before him, but everything to do with him and his tastes, or rather his lack of reinvigorating his passions when depression decided to hit hard.

After examining the first floor, Ben made his way to loft level, resuming his less than enthusiastic perusal. He finally stopped when he caught sight of the classics section—he threw out a couple of his favorites during what he’d like to call his ‘dark ages’ and downloading the works was simply not the same. Replacements were long overdue, especially if he were to become an English teacher no less.

Scanning the shelves, he plucked a few—a collection of Maya Angelou poems, Dicken’s _A Tale of Two Cities_ , F. Scott Fitzgerald’s _This Side of Paradise_ , _Phantom of the Opera_. Arms beginning to fill, he turned the corner for the authors _N_ through _S_ , only to stop short.

 _She_ was there.

The kid. Kenobi’s granddaughter.

Except she wasn’t shopping— _idiot, why the hell would she be shopping in her own grandfather’s bookshop?_ —instead, she nested on the floor at the opposite end of the row. Laptop open with a few books surrounding her, she typed away.

Her hands moved at a speed Ben could not even accomplish during the height of his college days, a sharp _click-clack_ with every strike. Large, noise cancelling headphones covered her ears, she bopping along to whatever was streaming. Obviously, she couldn’t hear his steps on the hardwood floor, she consumed in her world.

Dark, hickory brown hair spilled from the messy bun, she blowing a little strand away when it flopped in her face.

Her gaze not leaving her computer screen, she attempted to push her slipping glasses up her nose with her shoulder.

A futile, if not pathetic, gesture.

Still typing with one hand, she picked up the mug beside her and took a big gulp—

Then burped. Loudly.

Nose wrinkling, Ben turned away.

Once gross, always gross.

With his arm full, Ben went back down to the main floor and payed for his books. He’d return to the shop next week to purchase more books to replenish his collection.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Three weeks later, Old Ben passed away.

Ben found out from his mother over the phone. She broke the news gently, she grieving for the man who loved their family as his own until his dying breath.

He nodded, hanging up after words about the funeral were exchanged. Boxes were left half unpacked, moving into his new apartment halted by the news. Glancing around the half empty living room, Ben sat down on his yet to be furnished floor.

A heavy sigh left him and nothing else.

He cried enough tears to last a lifetime.

Crying over the inevitable would not do him well.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Out of all the funerals Ben attended in his life, Old Ben Kenobi’s was oddly the saddest.

For several reasons—

The sky decided to weep rain, causing people to cower under trees and umbrellas. It put them at a distance from the proceedings.

More locals, people who knew Old Ben Kenobi from his shop or his glory days as English professor, attended than anyone else. People who knew a version of Old Ben, people who knew the Mr. Kenobi who was wise and gave suave smiles until he reached his elderly age. A touching and valid sight to see such a crowd, but…

But it made the sight of Rey Kenobi painful.

The girl, twenty-three and alone in both person and name.

A slip of a figure standing apart from the rest. The color black washed her out, the bags under her eyes prominent and deep against the color. She shifted unsteadily on the grass, eyes locked on the casket prepared to be lowered. Everyone knew she was the last living Kenobi in possible existence, left with her grandfather’s legacy, one she shied away from if her distance was anything. One she possibly did not understand nor want to understand if her confused glances to the crowd were anything to read.

She refused to speak at the funeral, her friend taking the stand to say a few words. Which unintentionally opened the flood gates for others to speak up and share their own experiences with the great, old man. A never ending revolving door of the same words spoken in a different order.

Ben pitied the girl.

He’d been unable to look away from her since she excluded herself from everyone. She looked lost; there, but gone all at once.

And then Ben saw _it_.

A flask clutched in her right hand, tucked behind her.

And then _it_ happened.

The casket had been lowered and dirt was thrown, the crowd dispersing until there were a lone few—him, the Kenobi girl, a few others chatting at a distance. His mother had already left him to say his own final goodbyes, off to go get drinks with Amilyn Holdo, the two ready to bitch and grieve together like the old pals they were.

With a heavy chest, Ben decided to make his way over to her—Rey. Just to _talk_ to her. Tell her she wasn’t alone, how their families were friends, how he wanted to help in his own bullshit, train wreck way. To be a support because he knows losing someone hurts like hell and a lot of unexpected emotional baggage follows. Better yet a shit ton of emotional baggage follows.

And maybe mention to her how alcohol wasn’t always the option. You know, _nonchalantly_.

Once he was a couple of feet away, Ben cleared his throat, “Hey, um, I’d just like to—”

Vomit covered his shoes— _her_ vomit covered his shoes. Followed by struggling to catch her balance, a faint grip caught on to his jacket, Rey about to nose dive into her own mix of alcohol and stomach acid.

Forgetting his disgust, Ben held her steady, Rey glaring at him with disoriented eyes. Distrust shined back at him, as well as the ever present emptiness he knew all too well.

Ben wanted a hole to swallow him—looking at her…looking at her was looking back into a fucked up version of himself he was trying to forget.

A past he was trying to kill and let die with the rest of his shitty decisions.

He wanted to run, leave and run until he never saw a reflection of himself again.

Yet he stayed because…because well, she was shitfaced and no one should be alone when they were shitfaced.

Shuffling away from the vomit, Ben tried to get her to stand upright, not concaving in on herself. “Hey, hey, I need you to look at me. Hey, what did you drink—"

Those familiar eyes shut, she slumping against him, dead weight.

 _Fuck_.

_“Hey! Hey, I need help! Someone call an ambulance! 9-1-1, fuck, I don’t know!”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Needless to say, Ben avoid anything Kenobi related like a plague for the next few months. He didn’t even breathe a word of what happened after the funeral to his mother, not mentioning how he spent the majority of the night with an unconscious girl he hardly knew as her stomach was pumped.

Not that he wanted to be there at the hospital, he simply didn’t want to leave the girl alone.

But he also didn’t want to be there when she woke up. However, her emergency contact had yet to be changed.

With some snooping, he found her phone in her coat pocket. Hoping against the odds, Ben was pleasantly surprised to find her phone wasn’t password protected. The girl was ether far too trusting or she had nothing to hide. By the looks her, probably both.

He contacted the name he recognized, Finn the friend from the funeral, explained the situation.

Knowing the guy was on his way, Ben left.

He felt no regrets about it, even after he explained the events to his therapist.

“Ben, I am immensely proud of you for doing your best. It must have been difficult to handle a situation like that,” Dr. Andor praised lightly, knowing Ben was uncomfortable with words of affirmation.

“I couldn’t stay…it was….it was too much,” Ben shook his head, “should I even fell this way—overwhelmed—three months sober?”

Dr. Andor did not comfort him nor tell him what to do. Instead, he told him the facts. “Ben, from what you are telling me, it sounds like you were triggered, but you moved forward. You moved passed the trigger.”

“Do I just…avoid triggers, then? Because I don’t like feeling like this,” he confessed. “Feeling my past shoved in front of me.”

“You don’t necessarily _avoid_ triggers if you want to move past them,” Dr. Andor explained, “But you do need to pinpoint them, you need to know what causes them, you need to understand _why_ it made you feel the way it did. Be _curious_ about yourself. Scolding doesn’t get you anywhere and blaming other people for triggering you also does nothing, especially when it is an accident or they don’t know.” He eyed Ben carefully. “Do you really think this girl got drunk on purpose to make _you_ feel this way?”

“Of course not, she doesn’t know me.”

“Exactly.” Dr. Andor made a note on his legal pad. “Just be careful and know your limits, it seems like you figured that on your own.”

Ben winced into a smile. “Is that good or bad?”

“That’s good, Ben. That’s really good.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

If Death followed Ben around like a plague, then Life like to shake things up with a little dash of ‘fuck you’.

Because Rey fucking Kenobi was standing at the snack table at group therapy.

Months later, she looked like shit. In fact, she looked like a fucking _train wreck_. A mess, a complete and utter mess. One who reeked of alcohol, coffee, and a weeks’ worth of sweat. The pomegranate and cucumber deodorant she slathered on seemingly everywhere did not help her. At all. Her hair was a rat’s nest, greasy and oily while somehow unbelievably frizzy. Also, he was pretty sure she was wearing some cleaned up version of pajamas out in public.

From the other side of the table, he watched as she took a healthy bite of a muffin—

Only to spit it right back out.

Apparently people never change.

As she struggled to get the remains of the muffin off her tongue, Ben cringed.

“That’s a sight.”

His brain immediately flashed red as the words left his mouth. Wrong thing to say. Absolutely wrong thing to say.

She looked back up at him, glaring and shoving her glasses up the bridge of her nose, like some sad, petulant nerd.

His eyes narrowed; he didn’t need this shit in his life. Might as well   _finally_ get his thoughts off his chest. “Has anyone taught you how to discreetly spit out awful food?” he asked, harsher than he intended.

He expected her to huff, maybe march away, roll her eyes. Something of the melodramatic nature.

Instead she was ready to match him toe to toe, fierce despite her rather sorry appearance.

“Has anyone told you it is rude to stare? Watching like some creep as I spat my food,” she argued back, her accent thicker as her temper got the best of her. “You like to get off on that?”

His eyebrows flew into his hairline, lips scrunched to the side.

What the fuck? Who was she thinking she could just talk to him, claiming he got off on watching someone spit out food—a wasn’t a _creep_ , goddamn it. If anyone was a creep, _she_ was the creep. Afterall, she was the one who came up with an outlandish idea.

His temper, of course, decided to get the best of him. “No, no I don’t. I usually don’t ‘get off’” he used air quotes, “on that. I prefer not to get off at all—it’s called a symptom of _depression_ ,” he quipped dryly.

Out of spite he ate his muffin aggressively.

Unfortunately, it tasted like shit, Ben unable to hide his cringe from the smug girl. Stubborn, he swallowed, knowing best to follow through. Once finished, he turned away and marched to the circle, not caring he was doomed to hold the disgusting muffin for the entire session.

From his spot Ben’s eyes drifted to _her_ , she clearly zoned out until it was inevitably her turn to share. A bit rude, considering they all had to listen attentively and give words of comfort—it was a grief support group for god’s sakes. Even Ben listened to the droning of his fellow mourners, knowing he at least wanted an ear or two to listen to his own drab life.

In retaliation, he forced himself to not listen to her. Annoyed with her…just her _everything_. The way she acted, the way she talked, the way she disregarded everyone, the way she fucking _spat out food_ , the fact she was shit faced at a funeral and she obviously did not goddamn remember a thing—

_“…To talk about my shit and my shitty life, like the rest of you shitheads…No offense.”_

He laughed.

He fucking laughed, disrupting the flow. And he could not help it.

Honestly, he could not remember the last time he laughed that hard and it scared the shit out of him. Because well…she made him laugh. No one could make him laugh these days; a snort, a chuckle, a giggle.

But a full, belly laugh, making his side hurt?

No. A train wreck of a girl—a girl he felt too much of everything about just from being in her mere presence—did that.

For some strange reason, it gave him _hope_ …

.

.

.

A _hope_ he felt when she smiled and babbled and made awfully timed jokes. A hope he felt when they tried to slow dance off beat to 3 Doors Down  “Here Without You”. A _hope_ he felt when she held him close and when it seemed his world was crashing down.

.

.

.

A _hope_ she’d crush letting her addiction get to her.

Not just once.

But twice.

A _hope_ he’d still have when he found her tipsy in the bathroom at his mother’s funeral reception.

But one he’d have to step away from because he wasn’t too sure if he could do this forever.

Because with Rey he wanted…truly _hoped_ there’d be a forever. No more Death.

Clearly that wasn’t the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT A REVERSAL! 
> 
> Now don't hate me. We will get what exactly happened at the funeral reception next chapter. Keep in mind something must have HAPPENED in order for Rey to react in such a way. And we are in BEN'S POV. Not everything is what it seems! FOR ALL WE KNOW, SHE WASNT DRINKING.
> 
> But yes, sad times for Ben Solo. My poor son, but I think we all understand him a bit better now. And I hope none of you minded this little detour in the fic. I felt it necessary.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers!


	11. my side, your side, & the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI. I'M BACK WITH THIS FIC.
> 
> ALMOST 9K FOR ALL OF YOOOOUUU.
> 
> Mind the tags.
> 
> We get to meet a certain character we all love to hate in this chapter.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D

* * *

 

 

 

Sometimes Rey wondered how she ended up fucking herself over. And over. And over.

 _Constantly_.

If there was an invisible cloud or gremlin following her for all her days and pushed things around to make her stumble and screw up. Royally screw up to the point she wanted to jump over a cliff into water and never emerge.

Like right now—Ben entering the bathroom and watching her with complete and utter horror. Something out of a bad rom-com or horror flick—or a weird combination of both.

Because she was holding a bottle of whiskey.

Whiskey she wasn’t drinking—to _clarify_. She hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since her incident. In fact, she explicitly told everyone at the wake to not bring any alcoholic beverages as gifts nor for their own consumption.

Because it was the principle of the matter. Also, basic courtesy, an attribute she was attempting to exhibit these days.

She didn’t need Ben slipping when he was at a low. _She_ didn’t need to be slipping when at her highest stress point. Neither needed to be inconsolable messes of their own destruction.

However apparently, that did not stop _some_ guests. Because she found the bottle of whiskey from one of the _un_ invited guests. The raisin shrivel of a man attempting to spike Ben’s drink—

“He’s wound up and has a stick up his ass,” the man crooned—Mr. Sheev Palpatine, a family friend no one apparently liked. Despite his shorter stature, he carried himself of a man seven feet tall and with the world eating out of the palm of his hand. In short, he was a pompous ass who knew how to weave words together than yarn to a needle. “He needs to loosen up. Too much like his grandfather.”

“And you knew his grandfather?” Rey countered as she tried to swipe away the whiskey from him. Her hip rammed into the counter, the tiny hall bathroom leaving much room to be desired. Hissing in pain, Rey glowered at the man, annoyed with his presence the moment he introduced himself.

Not to mention he caused a switch to flip in Ben. While grumpy and moody, Ben wasn’t _scared_. A vulnerable scared where he looked on the verge of imploding in either tears or aggression.

She didn’t like this shriveled raisin man and wanted him gone before he could cause any more harm. Even if she had to kick him out with brute force. After all, Rey wasn’t above hashing out a slap or two for the sake of defense and protection of her loved ones.

He tucked the bottle behind him, effectively keeping it from her reach. “I knew his _entire_ family,” Palpatine said proudly, a puff to his chest.

“Well, I’ve never heard of you.” And she hadn’t.

“And I knew yours too,” he interjected, a small tut to his words. “ _Kenobi’s_ ,” he spat the name. She bristled at the sharp use of her surname, feeling her hackles rise. “Quite the noble bunch, you Kenobi’s are, going on and on about the right and wrong. But alas, where does nobility get you?”

“I don’t know,” Rey shrugged, “a _conscious_ —like not giving a known addict his vice, maybe?”

Palpatine ignored her, merely matching her gaze with a stern, unrelenting pierce. As though he could see right through her and pin point ever insecurity and flaw she possessed. “Or six feet under,” he said with a careless shrug. “Isn’t that what happened to your grandfather, Benjamin Kenobi? He took a tumble and off he went—”

“He was old and sick,” she justified. “He was going to die sooner or later. We all do.”

Sure it took several therapy sessions to get her admit it wasn’t necessarily her fault or her grandfather’s fault for his death…she was still digging through that pit of emotion, but she was getting better.

And simply getting better, was well, _better_ than nothing.

Rey didn’t need nor want this high and mighty old man to tell her otherwise. A man she had never seen in her life and claimed to know her grandfather—essentially claiming he knew her grandfather better than her.

“Ah, to be young and full of ignorance. How I do not miss those days.” He dusted nonexistent lint from his suit. “Your grandfather was the same, constantly sticking his nose where it wasn’t needed.” Chewing hard on the inside of her cheek, Rey refrained from lashing out despite the swelling temptation. But this old bastard made it a dozen times more difficult than average. “Tell me this—how long have you known dear little Benjamin?”

“He hates being called that—his name is _Ben_ ,” she corrected, lifting her chin higher.

A foot and a half away, Palpatine remained unimpressed. “Answer the question, none of this other talk. How long? Because I was sure—absolutely sure the Kenobis and Skywalkers cut ties ages ago—practically before you were born.” He then chuckled mockingly, enraptured by a sudden thought. “And seeing a man ten years your senior? My goodness.” He clutched his chest, appalled; Rey could not help but picture him as an old aristocrat woman, feather hat and all, clutching her pearls. It made the moment amusing, but didn’t soothe the sharp pin-pick words he threw at her. “Did you know there is something psychological to those implications?”

“Excuse me?” she spat, her lingering hand on the bathroom counter tightening. “You have no right to come barging in and start making judgements on my relationship—”

“So it _is_ a romantic relationship?” he shot, a faint hum of thought at the end. “The boy is more like his grandmother than I expected.” He tsked, his admiration morphing into mild disgust. “Or maybe like his father—I never did like that man, too mouthy and brash.” Nose wrinkled, he said, “A bit like you.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed, choosing to ignore the remark against her. She heard enough and believed enough hurtful comments on her personality.

Was she pleasant? No. Was she considerate? Sometimes, depending on her mood. Was she the best person on the planet? Fucking no. She still thought about her choices from middle school in the middle of the night when sleep decided to be a bitch.

So a shriveled, high and mighty man wasn’t going to rock her mentality. Nope. Nope. Nope. Because her own anxieties knew how to screw her over to perfection.

“Stop comparing him to his family—Ben is not his parents or grandparents. He is his own person.”

A Cheshire grin emerge from him, Rey’s stomach caving in on it’s self at the sight. Yet she remained strong stance, half her mind still on getting the bottle away from Palpatine. Thoughts of him spiking any of Ben’s drinks when she wasn’t watching caused panic to raise in new levels.

She didn’t need this man to screw up everything Ben had worked for—everything Ben had worked so hard to become and be while sober. A good _employee_ , a good _son_ , a good _man_.

Because sure it would be an accident and not his fault.

But she knew Ben.

He would blame himself until there was nothing left to blame, he becoming a hard shell of his former self.

“But see _child_ ,” she felt like vomiting at his use of the term, “everyone is their family and their past whether they like it or not. Ben is a Skywalker—their flaws and victories. He has much of his grandfather in him, even if he doesn’t realize it. It is my job as someone who has know him and his family all his life to guide him on to the right path.”

“And what is that?” Rey gritted.

“Leave this sorry town. Leave behind all this,” he waved to the house around him, “Leave behind the pain. Lock it up in a box and let it fuel him to his next purpose.”

“He’s _found_ his purpose.” She hated how her voice cracked, thoughts of Ben leaving jabbing too hard in her chest. “He loves teaching. He loves being here—he has friends and family—”

“What family, child?” he asked softly. “They are all dead. Surely not you? I am the closest thing he’ll ever get to family after all this _tragedy_.”

“Yes, me,” Rey stated fiercely, eyes a light with a burning fury she could not shove aside any longer. “I am his family. We made a promise to each other to look out for one another because we are all we have left. And I don’t need a ghost from the fucking past—all shriveled like a corpse—to tell me otherwise.”

“Oh, dear. He’s not going to stick around. No matter what silly little promises you made to each other” he asked lowly, unphased by her sudden lashing words. “He is a boy _lost_. He doesn’t need a girl who is just as lost to guide him. That’s a path to destruction. Do you really want dear little Benjamin to be on the verge of _destruction_?”

Rey glared. “Fuck you.”

He scoffed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. “So eloquent.”

“Fuck you,” she repeated, hands clenching at her sides. “I know what you are doing—I’m not a fucking idiot.” She hunched a little matching his gaze head on. “I know people like you—or well, knew people like you. You are trying to get into my head and tell me little things to crush my _little heart_ ,” she whimpered theatrically, earning a raised eyebrow. “Well jokes on you buck-o because my heart has already been crushed a thousand times over, from fucking life, and some old white dude is not going to get the validation of _that_.”

Blinking at her words, Palpatine recoiled slowly, considering her words.

“Bold. Maybe I underestimated the girl who was raised by a ‘morally stand-up’ man,” he tittered, mocking her grandfather once more. “But I am also not what you say, a ‘fucking idiot.’” He glanced at her up and down, unimpressed. “You two are lost children,” she openly rolled her eyes, Palpatine apparently getting back on _that_ train. “Who latched to each other because of mutual loneliness.” He sighed sadly, frowning at her with pity. “However, such a bond can last so long on the mere need for companionship. Look at the variables, child—you are young, maybe twenty-two, eh twenty-three if I want to be generous. And vulnerable, your grandfather has recently died—not to mention your little display at the funeral has gotten around. Let me guess, only stable man and figure in your life was, your grandfather?” Rey didn’t say anything, Palpatine continuing on without pause. “A young, grieving girl with her own slew of issues latching on to an older man, who let’s say for all intents and purposes, _cares_ a little for her. Compassion, if you will.”

“It’s not like that,” she defended, hating how Palpatine was twisting her and Ben’s relationship into something less than what it was or what it meant.

“You lack love, dear,” he tutted with a wave of his hand. “And you ran into the first arms that opened.”

“That’s not true,” her voice quivered. “That is not true. Ben and I l—” she stuttered over the word, swallowing air, “he and I care for each other.”

“You can’t even bring yourself to say ‘love.’ This is more tiresome than I thought.” Palpatine’s eyes scanned her sharply, considering each and every inch of her as though she was not good enough. Would never be good enough for anyone, let alone to man they were arguing over. “And now Benjamin—”

“ _Ben_.”

“Benjamin,” he stated again in spite. “He’s had a few hiccups in life and maybe you were a nice little distraction. Someone to take his mind off of his crumbling world—a pity considering you do seem intelligent and worth more than a little—”

Rey’s fist connected with Palpatine’s nose before he could finish his thought.

A sickening crack echoed in the bathroom, the man stunned and impaired, as he stumbled over his feet.

The rattle of a bottle hitting the tile floor filled the room, yet neither paid attention, briefly consumed with their own injuries.

“Fucking shit,” she hissed, a wave of pressured throbbing encased her right hand. Frantically she shook her hand to ease the unrelenting pain.

Never in her life had Rey punched anyone, not even a creep, always whacking and smacking in the nether regions in defense. Because she knew a right swing would cause more harm to her than anything and people were stupid to use their fists rather than words.

But goddamn it, did it feel _great_ to break that motherfucker’s nose.

Her eyes then latched on the small whiskey bottle. The lid rolled off somewhere under the toilet, the alcohol starting to spill out on the floor. With little thought she dived, not caring she knocked Palpatine off his precariously balanced feet and into the bathroom tub. She grabbed whiskey, and stood back up to her full height despite her lopsided heels.

Rey glowered down at the man, not caring if he cowered or sneered in her direction. He was nothing to her, simply a man spewing off words meant to cause chaos and pain. “I think it’d be best for you—”

The bathroom door was shoved open. “What the hell is—”

Ben stopped in the doorway, stunned by the scene before him.

Because Rey realized with a thunder what exactly the situation before Ben looked like—

There was an man bleeding and verging on unconsciousness, half in and out of the tub. Her own hand was swollen and bruised and her once put together appearance was a bit haphazard. She could barely stand on her own two feet in her heels.

Then there was the small bottle of _whiskey_ in her hands. A bit spilled on the floor and herself, and uncapped. A puddle of amber liquid surround them, slowly mixing with Palpatine’s blood.

Rey swallowed, throat dry and gut empty.

He looked as though he’d seen a ghost. A ghost standing in her place, unable to move forward in life because they were stuck in a constant loop of perpetual doom.

Honey-brown eyes blew in shook, disbelief, and ultimately hurt. He licked his lips, mouth moving open and closed yet not a faint sound came out. At a loss for words—a man always with a witty reply and dry humor to alleviate the situation, to get his own anger and fear and pain out of his mind and into the world—had nothing to say.

He merely stared at her, then the room, then back at her.

The weight of disappointment rested upon him, Rey ready to beg for him to understand.

Understand the situation wasn’t what it looked like, but…

 _Fuck_ —she felt like a ghost when he looked at her that way.

“Ben—”

He bolted away.

Leaving her standing alone in the mess.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_**Two Hours Earlier…** _

 

 

“Do you think the little quiches are good?”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“It is a reception. Wouldn’t it be rude if I didn’t at least try—”

“No.”

Defeated, Rey slumped, eyes still on the food table. For the last three hours, Rey stood beside Ben as hordes of mourners came into Leia’s house, sharing their condolences and gave more food than either of them could eat in one week.

She swore she saw at least three different macaroni and cheese dishes make their way into the house. A waste really—Ben was lactose intolerant. Yet he smiled and motioned to where they could put the food in the kitchen.

Rey made the mental note to send Mitaka home with one, making sure it was covered enough so his Aunt wouldn’t notice what the dish was once in the fridge.

“I haven’t ate since before we left for the cemetery,” Rey muttered, shifting from foot to foot. After a few hours, her low heels were causing her teeter slightly. What she would do for a chair, or even a stool. Just something get off her goddamn feet. Who knew being a ‘support’ meant being uncomfortable for hours on end.

Not to mention to amount of niceties Rey had to put forth.

Forced smiles.

Empty ‘how are you’s.

The surmountable shock she’d receive when she not so subtly corrected guests that no, she was not just writing Leia’s memoir, she was indeed Ben’s girlfriend.

Odd mutterings followed soon after.

“Not my fault,” Ben shot back. He snapped out of his sour face, forcing another polite smile as an elderly woman came up to them.

Rey could not place where she knew the woman from, the large glasses and cheeky grin familiar. A plate of upside down pineapple bites were then roughly shoved into Rey’s arms.

Ah—Maz Katana. Elderly woman with far too many lovers to keep track of, it made Rey’s head spin. While Maz stopped by once a month, Rey never had the chance to speak to the woman nor be introduced. They seemed to always miss each other by mere moments, much to her therapy buddies disappointment. Apparently the lot love Maz, especially Mitaka, the woman sneaking him a couple of twenties when she saw him with the instructions to ‘eat real food’ and a wink.

Mitaka thought it was a nice gesture.

Kaydel became stricken when Mitaka told her, she unable to form words.

And Rey and Ben…well they did not have the heart to tell Mitaka the elderly woman may have been hitting on him.

“Ben Solo,” Maz announced loudly, jewelry laden and wrinkled hands reaching out to him. A flash of pain and respect came upon Ben’s face, momentarily lost at the greeting. “My boy come, come, come.” She waved him closer, her words knocking him out of his pause.

Begrudgingly Ben bent down, closer to eyelevel with Maz than before. Without mercy, she cupped his face between her hands and pinched his cheeks. His pale skin turned red from the strain, Maz releasing after a moment.

“You remind me so much of your father, in the face truly—oh what a man,” Maz cooed, patting his face, “Owed me at least a thousand with the tab he ran at my pub, but what a man.”

“Of course he still has debts,” Ben muttered as he stood back up, rubbing his tender cheek. With a moody pout, he eyed the woman, dread in his being. “Did he not pay you back?”

Maz waved him off. “Your mother took care of it ages ago,” she sighed, a placid sadness overcoming her. “She was good like that. A good woman through and through.”

“That she was,” Ben agreed quietly.

Maz’s large eyes then set on Rey with unbearable knowing, striking her like a douse of cold water.

Shifting the wobbling pan of pineapple bites to one arm, Rey held her hand out to Maz. “Hi, I’m Rey—”

“I know who you are.”

“Oh.” She swallowed her introduction.

“I knew your grandfather.”

“Right,” Rey uttered, attempting to keep her smile going despite the mention of her family.

“A kind hearted man. Patient, understanding, always wanting to see the best,” Maz’s eyes crinkled, she taking Rey’s free hand. Magnified orbs roamed her, seeing straight through her, all too clouded in wisdom. “I believe you have some of his best qualities. I can see it in your eyes and smile. You Kenobi’s have a disposition to contend with, always believing you have the right answer.” Her eyes then went to Ben, she tutting, a mirth to her. “It is only natural the last Kenobi and last Skywalker would find each other. I think your grandfather’s would be please.”

“Nice to know dead men would be please,” Ben quipped, “always wanted that for my life.”

Maz rolled her eyes, releasing Rey’s hand. “No sass boy,” she warned before venturing off to speak with other guests.

Watching her go for a moment, Rey spun back to Ben. “She’s…”

“A bit of an oddball, I know,” Ben answered, taking the tray she held. He placed the pineapple bites on the table beside them. “My mother claimed Maz was a bit clairvoyant, but I think it is just an excuse to explain all her strange talk,” he said, taking a sip of his water. “But ultimately a nice woman, who likes to be around people, and has been good to my family.” He shrugged, unable to further defend the woman.

“Well, that’s very kind of her,” Rey said politely.

“That’s very mature of you to say,” he replied, a tease in his eyes.

If anyone knew how much she hated listening to people throw in their condolences and grievances, it was Ben. Neither were fond of the situation, but at least they had each other. Someone to look at with a knowing glance, or a quip to earn a quiet chuckle.

A companion to go through hell with.

It was _nice_.

She smirked, bumping her shoulder with his. “I can be an extremely mature person if I want to be.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he muttered, lips quirking to the side. “Do want to maybe go for a drive once this is over?” Ben’s quiet question briefly brushed her ears, Rey leaning closer to hear him. When she didn’t immediately respond, he was quick to justify himself. “I just kind of need to get away for a bit. Thought a drive would clear my mind, but if you don’t—”

“I’d love to,” she answered, meeting his honey-brown eyes.

Relief shined in his eyes, followed by a softness she could not name.

A throat cleared, Rey looking away from Ben and to the person before her.

“Ah, little Benjamin, why isn’t it wonderful to see you,” an old man greeted them as though they were all old friends.

Ben frowned, but held out his hand for handshake nonetheless. “Uh, hello—um, not to be rude but I don’t remember you. My mother knew many people and sometimes it’s had to place faces with names.”

The man smiled pleasantly, though there was an edge to his voice. As though he didn’t expect Ben to not recognize him. “Ah, yes. The last time I saw you, you were a young boy,” his chuckle grated on Rey’s ears, she subconsciously taking a subtle step forward in front of Ben.

Neither man noticed.

“Sheev Palpatine,” the man’s wrinkled hand grasped Ben’s in a firm shake. “I was a friend of your grandfather’s. Knew you Skywalkers for all your lives. Pity what happened to your mother.”

Ben swallowed tightly, growing more and more uncomfortable with the man’s presence.

With little grace, Rey shoved her hand towards Palpatine. “Hi, it was nice of you to come. I’m Rey—”

“That accent dear,” the man murmured, taking her hand for a less than gripping shake, “where are you from? Certainly not from this area.”

Releasing her hand, Rey attempted to wipe her palm behind her back. The man’s hand was clammy and cold. “Uh, no. I grew up here. My grandfather however had a Coruscant accent—”

He interrupted her again. “A Kenobi I presume?”

“Yes. As I was attempting to introduce myself, I’m Rey Kenobi. Ben’s girlfriend.”

Palpatine’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, stunned by the news.

“I thought the Kenobi’s and Skywalker’s stopped speaking to each other ages ago. And now the off-springs are together?” He chuckled once more, Rey unsure if it was mocking himself or she and Ben. Palpatine’s motives were difficult to crack. “What a strange world,” he muttered, nodding to the two with a forced smile. “My condolences Benjamin. I hope in light of this news of your mother, our families can reconnect as well. After all, I considered your grandfather as my own.”

With that, Palpatine walked away, a slight hobble to his step.

“How the fuck old is that man?”

“I’m guessing at least a hundred,” Ben muttered a bit distractedly, eyes still on the elderly man.

“ _Shit_.”

“Yeah.”

“Never want to live that long,” she said quietly. She thought of her grandfather. Old, ailing, in pain.

His hand found hers. “Me neither. A good ninety-something years is good enough for me. But not a hundred. That’s a _century_.”

At his words, she thought of an older Ben. Wrinkled and tired, but his eyes remaining the same. That warm honey-brown she never seemed to separate from him.

She tried to picture herself old too—maybe next to him.

But the images didn’t match up.

She never allowed herself to think that far ahead of her future.

“ _Same_ , ninety here we go.”

Rey didn’t believe her words despite Ben’s emerging smile.

He squeezed her hand tighter, already greeting the next guest.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ben had been to numerous funerals in his life.

But none had a turn out like his mother’s.

Hoards of politicians, philanthropists, educators—the list went on. Coming into her former home, sharing their stories of Leia Organa and her great effort and work. Her kind heart and resilient disposition. Her overall being.

No one was like her and no one would ever be like her again.

An uplifting and terrible notion to consider.

So Ben smiled and shook hands, channeling the politician’s son persona he hid away years ago. He need to be the face of her mother’s legacy—he needed to be the face of his family’s legacy.

It was just _him_.

Seeing faces of weary and aged reminded him of this, the wave of fear, loneliness, and inadequacy pumping into him with every interaction.

But at least _she_ was there.

Rey standing beside him, just as miserable, but muttering snide comments at any and every opportunity.

It made him laugh. He needed someone with his sense of humor there to ground him and she was just that.

Of course, that didn’t mean the day was any less exhausting. As there was a lull in greetings and conversation, Ben excused himself to get himself and Rey coffee— _decent_ coffee he had stashed in the kitchen. None of the weak and cheap stuff they put in the carafe for their guests.

As he set the machine to brew, the sharp knock was heard from the doorframe.

Ben barely spared a glance, having an inkling who it could be.

“She a pretty girl, that Rey,” Palpatine commented lightly, coming further into the kitchen. “It’s a pity she is a bit too much like her grandfather. It seems she has a stubborn streak. A bit brash.”

Biting his lips together, Ben refrained a response.

“I was also a little hurt you didn’t mention me to her, let alone acknowledge you knew of my existence,” the old man tittered, leaning on his cane as he ambled towards Ben.

Ben bristled at his complaint; if it was his choice, as it had been, he never wanted to see the manipulative old man again.

Sheev Palpatine might have been connected to the Skywalkers and Kenobis but it was never for anything good. A constant shadow over his grandfather, disguised as a mentor. Kenobi never liked him, the man stirring trouble between the two men when they were younger, pitting Anakin and Old Ben together on more than one occasion.

And Anakin, time and time again, was susceptible to it. Even as he reached a later age with his own children and grandchildren, he’d find his way to Palpatine seeking his help and advice, despite the man being a toxic virus.

Growing up, Ben would occasionally accompany his grandfather to meetings with the other man, or see him lingering around the house. Form fitted suits and a cane in hand, he walked with an air of at ease assertiveness, Ben wondered if it were an illusion. If Palpatine was a magician and not some ‘corporate fiend’, as his mother put, with millions to his name and shadiness to go with it on the side.

But as time carried on, he heard whispers and comments from his family when they thought he wasn’t listening—Palpatine cause issues down to the fiber and function of his family. One of the last things his grandfather reminded him was to not let anything come between their family again. And while Ben screwed up more times than he cared to count, he was fulfilling the promise now. Even if his family was just him and Kylo and Rey.

Palpatine’s lips curled. “I was your grandfather’s family. Practically his best friend—”

“Benjamin Kenobi _was_ my grandfather’s best friend and good man and I rather you not speak ill of him,” Ben shot back, his head snapping to man, “ _or_ his family.”

“You have compassion for the girl,” Palpatine sighed, disappointed. “All you Skywalkers are the same. Falling in love with someone who gives you a thrill. Anakin, Leia, now you. I thought you were better than that Benjamin. I thought your grandfather would groom you into a man better than that.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed at him, his hands clenching on the kitchen counter. “My grandfather loved me and didn’t want me to become like him.”

The older man rolled his eyes, clearly bored by the conversation. “A futile gesture.”

“And _you_ were the one who ruined his life,” Ben spat. “Caused the rift between him and his wife, caused the rift between him and Kenobi time and time again. You _aren’t_ welcomed here Palpatine.”

“Boy, what are you talking about?” Palpatine said, voice quivering with growing anger. “I helped your father. When no one else wanted to hire him, I _helped_. I paid for all of his wife’s medical bills—your grandmother’s medical bills.”

“They weren’t even talking then and she was already going to die,” Ben said conviction, piecing together what happened from his grandfather’s few mentions of Padme and Kenobi’s stories. “The childbirth was too much for her—it was going to kill her, and you knew that, yet you continued to push practices on her, giving my grandfather false hope.”

“I have always looked out for your family,” the older man reminded him. “No one was speaking to Anakin then, not even the _great_ Kenobi.” He peered up at Ben with confidence of a mighty man twice his size. “You Skywalkers owe me a life debt. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be alive. Your mother and uncle wouldn’t have been alive!”

“We owe you _nothing_ ,” Ben said, voice stern and low.

“Yes, you do,” Palpatine continued, walking away from Ben. Quietly he picked up a mug and served himself his own cup of coffee, acting as though he owned the place. Like he always did. “I keep tabs on you Benjamin. Made a few calls. You will be working at First Order again.”

“Excuse me?” Ben uttered. He hadn’t heard the name First Order in over a two years. He hadn’t bothered to think of the damn firm in ages, let alone working there again. “No, I am not. I am no longer a lawyer. I hated my job.”

The older man pursed his lips, not taking no for an answer. “I made a promise to your grandfather I’d always look out for your best interests, make sure you have employment and suffice funds. I could keep an eye on you there.”

Ben balked at the man. “I attempted _suicide_ while I was working there, I was miserable,” he said, panic gripping in his chest as the mere thought of walking into the cursed building again. “I’ll never work there again. I don’t fucking care how many strings you pulled or favors you called.”

“Snoke passed from a heart attack three months ago,” Palpatine said with a shrug. “If it is him you are worried about, it is no longer a matter.”

“It’s not…” Ben’s hands clenched, he attempting to calm his breathing. “I am happy. I have a job I love, I am sober, I have a girlfriend I care deeply about—”

“And how long do you think that will last Benjamin?” the older man shot back, calm. “Happiness is a fickle thing. Sure, you may love your job now, but what about next year. What if you get laid off or there are budget cuts in your department? Hmm.” Palpatine tutted, setting his untouched coffee on the counter. “The same can go for the girl. Sure, you love her now. She young, pretty. Let’s give benefit of the doubt and say ‘intelligent’—but she is young--some might even say far too young for you, and ambitious. A woman with her own mind and wishes. She also comes with her own baggage. Does she not?”

Ben chose to remain silent, fiercely reminded Palpatine would use any information at his disposal as ammunition.

Such as addictions, depression, and relationships.

“An addict herself, no?”

His eyes narrowed, on guard. “How do you know that?”

“Like I said, I keep tabs on you Skywalkers,” Palpatine up turned his nose, watching Ben like a hawk. “Plus I was at Kenobi’s funeral. That girl is a _mess_.”

“But she’s _my_ mess,” Ben found himself saying; not exactly the best words in defense of Rey, but the only ones he found at the moment. “And she’s getting better. We are both continuously getting better—”

“Do you know addicts who are in relationship with other addicts statistically have a high chance of falling off the wagon?”

“Yes, but—”

“You being with this girl puts not only your health, but _her_ health in danger, Benjamin.”

His shoulder’s tensed, Ben glaring at the man. “We _don’t_ enable each other.”

“How long has she been sober?”

“Almost a month—”

“And how long have _you_ been sober?”

“A few years but—”

“No buts,” Palpatine shushed. “She is _unstable_. She is going to drag you down the pits of hell you worked so hard to get out of, dear little Benjamin.”

“Rey’s not like that. Her addiction was different than mine. It was different experience—”

“What are you going to do when she relapses.”

“She’s _not_ going to relapse,” Ben said, conviction in every fiber of his being. “She won’t. She has worked hard—through her anxiety, depression grief. _You don’t know her like I know her_.”

Palpatine shook his head. “You sound just like him. Anakin. And look where that led him—heartbreak.” With a sigh, he began to leave the kitchen. “Don’t be surprised boy if she disappoints you. Troubled and ambitious women have a way of doing that.”

Ben wanted to believe Palpatine was wrong.

But he knew the monster of his own anxieties.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Maz gave me another twenty,” Mitaka waved the bill in front of Kaydel. “It’s nice to have someone look out for me.”

“She sure is looking at something,” Kaydel muttered, smiling politely at Maz Katana from a distance. The woman winked at the two, Mitaka grinning boyishly and unaware, while Kaydel recoiled at the come-on.

Rey snorted into her cookie, shoving the treat into her mouth before someone noticed.

Her nose wrinkled as she realized the flavor—Raisin. Blech.

But like an adult, she chewed and swallowed. She didn’t need Ben teasing and mocking her relentlessly over the matter. Not that he was there at the moment, taking his sweet time hiding and making coffee. Being a the selfish bastard she knew he could be.

It was nice to see him slowly get back to his old self and habits.

“Who is the naked-mole rat wannabe?” Mitaka asked, nodding to someone behind her.

Glancing over her shoulder, Rey’s eyes widened. “That dickwad?” she asked, facing her friends once more, hoping they’d drop the subject.

“Shit, she knows him,” Kaydel uttered, shifting closer to the two. “Do tell.”

“Some old wanker who knows mine and Ben’s family,” Rey said simply. Deep down she knew there was more to the story, her boyfriend’s tense mood answer enough. But she wasn’t about to share her speculations with Nosy 1 and Nosy 2. “Bit weird.”

“He looks it. Maybe he’s demon,” Mitaka supplied.

Kaydel and Rey shared a glance, both unamused with the comment.

“What—he could be! He looks like one…evil eyebrows and all.”

“Okay, stop insulting the elderly,” Kaydel scolding, patting Mitaka’s arm warningly. “You don’t even know the dude.”

“But I can sense it,” the young man insisted. “I think with all the therapy and meds I have developed a third eye—”

“Okay, I think it is time for you to go home, little conspiracy theorist,” Rey announced, coming in to give him a hug and lead him out.

“I’ll give him a ride home,” Kaydel told her, looping his arm with hers. “Make sure boy wonder gets home safely.”

An astonished expression washed his face, Mitaka stunned still as the gesture. “Uh, yeah. You can take me home.”

Rey rolled her eyes, waving goodbye to the two as they left. “Have a good night you two…” her words trailed off as she noticed Palpatine moving across the room to where Ben stood earlier.

He examined the table of food, most of it untouched and needing to place in the fridge. His hand then swiped the cup on the mantel.

Light reflected from the inside of coat pocket—

Blood drained from her as Rey realized what exactly Palpatine was doing.

“That fucking, son of a bitch.”

Jaw clenched, she marched in his direction, ready to knock some sense into the old bastard.

* * *

 

 

_**Present…** _

 

 

“Ben!” Rey shouted, dashing after him. Her feet wobbled, she nearly tumbling, but kept moving forward to keep up with him. “ _Ben_! Please, slow down!”

He ignored her, marching straight to the backyard. She quickly followed, knowing a few heads turned at them as they made their haste exit. Not so gracefully, she flipped a couple of them off with her good hand, the elderly folks turning back to their own business and chit-chat.

Shutting the sliding door behind her, Rey shook her hand again, the throbbing not subsiding.  

“ _Fucking shit_ ,” she hissed. Heel sinking into the grass, she made an executive decision and abandoned her heels. With her footwear gone, Rey jogged on to keep up with her boyfriend—

Who somehow ended up being a good couple of yards away.

Despite all the time she spent at Leia’s house, she never noticed the backyard. She knew it was there, only going out back with Kylo a handful of times, and once with Ben. But that was at night and they remained close to the back porch area.

But the backyard was _huge_. Rey presumed larger than the average backyard, as a garage and shed filled the space and still left a wide grass space.

Eyes squinting from the setting sun, she made her way over to Ben, who stood beside the back end of the shed, far away from prying eyes.

“Ben—”

“What the hell?” he hissed, eyes verging on wild. “What the fucking hell, Rey?”

Shifting from foot to foot, she winced.

“Um…” she glanced down to the bottle in her hands. “Fuck.”

Ben huffed, shaking his head. Running his hands through his hair, he took a step back from her. His breath came out in sharp and quick inhales and exhales.

Biting her lip, she tossed the bottle to the side, it rolling into a forgotten flower bed. “It’s not how it looks—”

“It fucking looks like you beat the crap out of an old man and were drinking all while doing so,” he gritted, hair mused up in haphazard directions. “I thought you weren’t drinking anymore! I thought you were moving past this—”

“I’m not!” she shot back, gaping at him. “How quick you are to assume I’m drinking—”

“ _You reek of alcohol_!”

“Yeah, because that fucking bastard brought his own personal bottle of whiskey!” she cried out.

Ben paused, eyes widening in complete and utter disbelief. “So you _punched_ him?”

“No! It wasn’t like that—”

“Then how the fuck was it?” Ben bellowed, hands fisted at his side. “Because you reek of alcohol, you punched an elderly man, all while the house is full of fucking gossips, and knowing him, he’s gonna fucking sue you!”

“Knowing him?” she spat. “How do you even know him? You said you don’t remember him—”

“Because I hate his fucking guts,” he huffed, inhaling and exhaling deeply, attempting to catch his breath. His lips pursed into a sharp line, frustrated and on the verge of a breakdown. “He has fucked with my family and your family enough times—”

“I have no idea what you are talking about!” Rey marched closer to him, seeing some face come closer to the sliding door from where she stood. “I’ve never seen that arsehole in my life and he comes here insulting me, insulting you, and I’m going to just stand around.”

“Not everything needs to resort to violence or a confrontation,” Ben mumbled, scrubbing his face. “You are not like this—I am confused—so fucking confused. Because he was fucking right and that asshole shouldn’t be right about anything!”

“Excuse me?” she uttered. “Ben, you aren’t making sense—you need to sit down. Take a breath.”

“He said you’d fall off the wagon and you did.”

“ _But I didn’t!”_

“The evidence says otherwise!” Ben exclaimed with a near maniac chuckle. He scrubbed his face again, heavy, jagged breaths leaving him.

He was having an anxiety attack. The sweating, the stuttered speech, the struggle to breathe. Hot tears cascading down his face.

“If you’d just calm down _for two fucking seconds_ and let me explain,” Rey hissed, feeling tears beginning to well, frustrated Ben wasn’t letting her get in a word. “Then you would know he was spiking your drink!”

Logically Rey knew yelling at him was not the appropriate reaction. But she didn’t know what else to do, needing Ben to hear her out before he spiraled.

“What?” Ben heaved, leaning a hand on the shed beside him. His dark hair flopped over his face, honey-brown eyes blinking at her. Tear still smeared his face, Ben not making an effort to clean himself.

“He was going to spike your drink,” she repeated, swallowing tightly. “So I basically told him to fuck off and give me the bottle,” Ben’s eyebrows shot up, “ _so I could dump the bottle_ , damn it!”

“Which…which led to you punching him?”

Rey winced, snapping her eyes shut. “Yeah, and now my hand hurts like a motherfucker.” Glancing down at her hand, Rey realized she’d need to got to urgent care, as her hand continued to throb and her wrist started to swelled a bit.

“Oh,” Ben murmured, licking his lips.

He didn’t spare her a glance, eyes focused on the grass.

“So I essentially defended your honor—”

“I think we should break-up.”

Any witty comment she had evaporated from her mind, his words hitting like a freight train. “Ben…what do you mean?”

“I think we should break-up,” he repeated calmly. “Or at least take a break. I don’t know.”

Her mind stopped working, the words playing on loop in her brain. “I’m confused.”

“I am too,” he confessed, eyes locked on the ground and unmoving. “Because I _do_ love you. I don’t question that, but…this is wrong. The wrong time—”

“How is this the wrong time?” Rey uttered, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

“You…are recovering. You shouldn’t be focusing on me and my grief and what I need. I’m going to end up becoming a substitute addiction for you,” Ben said quietly. “And I can’t be that. I don’t even know if I am that right now. Maybe I am making you into _my_ addiction.”

“Ben…”

“I need to go,” he muttered, seeming in a daze. “I need to go for a walk. A long one. If I don’t come back in a couple of hours…call Cassian.”

Ben walked away, the back gate clattering behind him, leaving Rey.

Glancing around, Rey’s brows furrowed confused about what had transpired.

Because Ben made her nervous…scared even. His words not making sense even as she attempted to string them together over and over in her mind.

Needless to say, she didn’t know if she did or didn’t have a boyfriend.

But she did know she had a house full of guests she needed to attend to.

So with her head held high, Rey went back inside and handled the situation.

Because if she learned anything these last few months, she wasn’t half bad at fixing the worst.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As six o’clock rolled around, Rey called Cassian.

She’d been surprised when he picked up on the first ring.

“He’s at my house. I think he’s going to crash here tonight, so don’t stay up waiting.”

“Oh,” Rey muttered, squirming in the plastic waiting room chair. The ticket for her walk-in appointment sat on her lap. Water smeared the ink, her bag of ice dripping. “Okay. Good to know.”

“Rey,” Cassian said softly, “Do you…do you know if anyone said anything to trigger Ben? I am asking this because he is refusing to speak and…and I—I just need to know.”

“I…” Her thoughts went to Palpatine. As far as she was aware, Ben only spoke to him once. “I’m not sure. It has been a long day. The funeral and all.”

“Yes, alright,” the man sighed, “Are you staying with anyone tonight, since Ben is here?”

“Uh, yes. My roommate will be home.”

“Good, good,” he muttered. “You call if you need anything okay? Anything at all.”

She blinked, feeling a wave of tears consume her. “ _Alright_ ,” she croaked.

“Have a good—”

“Why didn’t you stop Ben and I from seeing each other?” The words blurted out, Rey unable to help herself. “I did some research.” She rolled her eyes at the term she used. “Well, I googled and read some fascinating articles. Usually therapists recommend recovering addicts steer clear of each other. Not interact…ya know, to not enable and destroy each other from the inside out.”

A tired sigh came from his end. “Rey…”

“Why didn’t you tell us to not see each other, interact? Talk to other people? Why didn’t you put us in separate groups? Why didn’t you force us apart—like everything says you _should_?”

From his end, she heard a shuffling of feet and a door closing. “Because I thought you could learn from each other in a group setting…and I knew no matter what I said, you’d still find a way to each other. Both of you are stubborn like that.”

Snot began to ooze out of her nose, Rey making no move to wipe it away, all her hands full. “But what if he relapses because of me, or if I do something stupid and feel like shit and decided to drink again— _what if_ —”

“Those are what ifs,” Cassian said calmly, “What if…neither of you do? What if…this ends up being great? What if…you and Ben are together until you are old and gray?”

Rey didn’t know what to say, Cassian twisting her words to show a positive light.

“Rey…you can’t blame yourself for how Ben feels. He is feeling many different things right now—grief, pain, loss…but also joy, love, happiness. And sometimes it’s a lot. Isn’t it a lot for you sometimes?”

She sniffed. “Yeah…a bit overwhelming sometimes. In a both a good and bad way.”

“I think you and Ben have a lot of the same fears… average fears many couples have, beyond relapses and otherwise. Talking about it helps. Showing your affection helps. Time apart also helps. It’s deciding what is best for the two of you.”

Holding the phone close to her ear, Rey closed her eyes. Inhaling slowly, she let her tears come down gently, not fighting against the wave of emotion. “Okay.”

“Rey Kenobi?” A nurse called out.

“I need to go,” she muttered, “But thank you… for everything, Cassian.”

“Of course.”

Hanging up the phone, Rey stood up and walked over to the nurse. The older woman winced at the sight. “What did you do to get that?” she asked, leading Rey to an examination room.

“Punched an old man who tried to spike my recovering boyfriend’s drink.”

“Well…that’s a first,” the woman said with a slight grin. “Boyfriend here with you?”

Rey shook her head, meeting the woman’s all to knowing gaze.

“Alright pumpkin, we’ll get you all sorted out. I promise.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, how was— _holy shit_!”

Finn gapped at her, the blue cast on her wrist the object of his attention.

“What happened to you?” he asked, jumping off the couch and to her. She dropped her purse to the floor, and kicked off her heels.

“I punched an old dude who tried to spike Ben’s drink, who now that I think about it, probably fucked up his brain because he’s fucking manipulative arsehole.”

Her roommate nodded slowly, letting go of her broken and cast wrist. “I see…and what happened to said old man?”

Rey shrugged, “I called the cops.”

“You _what_?” Finn uttered, following Rey as she made her way to her room. “Why would you call the cops?”

“Because he was on private property and refused to leave,” Rey explained as entered her room.

Her eyes landed on Ben’s untouched suitcase sitting on her armchair. His clothes still laid slayed all over the place. His sweater laid tossed in the middle of her bed. With her good hand, she picked it up and tossed it with the rest of his belongings.

“And what happened?”

“He was arrested.”

“Excuse me?” Finn blinked, mouth dropping. “You got someone arrested?”

“Turns out Sheev Palpatine has a couple of restraining orders against him from some of the guests, specifically a Maz Katana. And I was able to get off without charges of assault.”

“Wow,” Finn breathed. “What a…crazy day.”

“Also I think Ben and I broke up,” she said emptily. Slowly, she sat on the edge of her bed, their conversation playing on loop in her head. “But I also don’t think we did…because he suggested it during an anxiety attack so…” she looked back up at Finn, he also at loss over the news, “so…I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” she said, hugging a pillow to her chest.

“I…don’t know what to say.”

“Neither do I.”

Finn cringed, scratching the back of his neck. “I can…I can sit with you, if you want…”

Rey’s nose wrinkled. “No, it’s fine. I…I think I actually want to be alone for a little bit. I’ve been with people all day.”

An exhale of relief escaped Finn, he not even bothering to cover it up. “Okay…if you need anything, I’m in the living room. Catching up on my shows.”

Finn lingered for a moment, waiting for her to say anything else.

Rey nodded once, becoming slightly annoyed by his hovering. “You _can_ go now.”

“Gotcha, gotcha.” Satisfied, Finn walked away, leaving the door open a crack.

For a moment, Rey did nothing.

Just sat on her bed, gazing hard at her electric blue cast.

She never really broke a bone besides a few ankle twists here and there…but nothing major enough to warrant a cast.

It was kind of cool in a juvenile kind of way.

She being a badass, defending her boyfriend’s honor and hard-work.

A boyfriend who wasn’t there with her now because…well, _because_.

She wasn’t too sure of the reason, he mind conjuring a different reason and purpose anytime she let her mind run wild for a hot minute.

Part of her wanted to cry.

Another part wanted to scream.

And another…another wanted to go find him and hug him until her arms fell off.

But at that moment, she felt too much and too little. An odd limbo.

Biting her lip, she stood up and made her way to her stereo. Connecting her phone to the aux cord, she scanned her wallow music and pressed play.

 

_“It's not like we planned it_

_You tried to stay,_

_but you could not stand it_

_To see me shut down slow_

_As though it was an easy thing to do_

_Listen when All of this around us will fall over…”_

Wiping her eyes, Rey sighed as the raspy voice of Ray LaMontagne filled her room. Digging through her bedside table, she pulled out the spool of yellow yarn and continued her work through her tired tears.

 _Yes_ , it was difficult with the cast on her wrist.

 _Yes_ , she dropped a few loops and knots.

 _Yes_ , she wanted to toss it aside and give up.

But she continued on, trying her best.

And by the end of a sleepless night, she had a yellow beanie.

A near replica of the black one beside her, one she snatched away for safe keeping.

“Perfect.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Yeah,
> 
> If you are confused about what happened, no worries, our characters are too. Miscommunication and anxiety at its finest.
> 
> I feel like I now HAVE to give Ben's side of the story.
> 
> Did anyone catch which insecurities Palps latched on for Rey and Ben? It was different for each one...
> 
> The song is "Shelter" by Ray LaMontagne. Lots of Reylo vibes....


	12. i don't need anyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go....
> 
> Typos will be fixed later!
> 
> Enjoy :D
> 
> (And don't let the first section scare you, just get past it and you'll understand)

* * *

 

 

 

_“Wish I could see what it's like to be the blood in my veins_

_Do the insides of all of my fingers still look the same?_

_And can you feel it too, when I am touchin' you?_

_And when my hair stands on ends, it's saluting you_

_T_ _he blush in your cheeks says that you bleed like me_

_And the 808 beat sends your heart to your feet_

_Left my shoes in the street so you'd carry me_

_T_ _hrough a breakdown_

_Through a breakdown or a blackout_

_W_ _ould you make out with me on the floor of the mezzanine?”_

 

 _\- clementine_ by Halsey

 

 

* * *

 

 

November 29th was a day both Rey and Ben would remember.

For _numerous_ reasons.

It was Ben’s birthday to name one—a birthday he despised and resisted.

His thirty-third birthday to be exact.

He never thought he’d live to be thirty-three, let alone celebrate it with anyone notable. A sad, yet true thought for dear Ben Solo.

It was also a _Sunday_ —group therapy day. A day, usually, both Rey and Ben looked forward to.

However this one was met with dread, as neither had truly spoken to each other for days, much to Rey’s chagrin.

Yet this one birthday was special.

Special because…it was the day Rey realized she didn’t _need_ Ben.

And Ben realized he didn’t _need_ Rey.

Neither needed anyone. Somehow that meant more than anything else.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Chewing on the end of her pen, Rey reread the page again.

Something did not feel quite _right_ about the paragraph.

She’d been in the pits of editing the most recent of draft Leia’s memoir, throwing herself into work rather than anything else. A less than stellar way to cope, but a bit healthier than her previous methods.

Not to mention she wanted to keep her mind off of Ben. Not obsess about him and what he had been thinking and wondering if he was okay…

Okay— _maybe_ she was still obsessing over him and editing Leia’s memoir didn’t help considering Ben was her son.

And Leia loved to mention him whenever she had the opportunity.

Which was sweet all things considering. Rey made a mental note to copy and save all their recordings on to a hard-drive for Ben. He’d want to keep some memento of his mother’s, even if he wasn’t exactly speaking to Rey at the moment.

“... _and while Organa took the senate seat in_ …”

 _Thud-thud-thud-thud._ Her phone vibrated insistently against her desk. Sparing a half glance, she swiped the call open and resumed her reading.

“Yes?”

“Rey!” Kaydel exclaimed. “Wait—I can’t see you can you—”

Huffing, Rey picked up her phone with her good hand (her cast was a bitch, who reminded Rey at every opportunity she could not move about life normally with a foreign object on her wrist) and propped up the device against her laptop while she continued to read her printed copy of her draft. Kaydel had a tendency to make videocalls rather than text or call. A thoughtful act, but more or less annoying for Rey who preferred to text as a bare minimum. And even then she never really responded in a timely fashion.

“What are you bringing to the potluck?” Kaydel asked, peering closer than necessary into the cell phone camera.

Lifting her eyes from her laptop, Rey frowned at her. “What potluck?”

“Ah…that’s right. You are still sort of a newbie,” she sighed sagely. “Every time it is someone’s birthday in therapy, we have a potluck afterwards. I am bringing my veggie lasagna.”

“Uh…” Rey winced, thinking of all her past (failed) endeavors in cooking. “Um, can it be store bought?”

Kaydel gave her a dubious look. “Homemade is _encouraged_.”

Licking her lips, she struggled to think of something adequate. No one deserved to have anything homemade by her, but Rey knew she had to at least try for the sake of potluck etiquette. “I guess…I can make…boxed mac and cheese?”

“Eh, I guess that will do,” the young woman sighed, resuming her own cooking. She carefully laid the handmade pasta layers into the pan with finesse of a well-season cook. Rey tried not to be jealous of Kaydel’s ease in the kitchen; her friend simply had a knack for anything that involved recipes. “I thought you’d want to try baking again or something of the likes. You weren’t _too_ bad at it.”

“I was bad. Don’t be nice.”

She exhaled with relief. “Okay yeah, you were terrible. But still—since you are ya know ‘the girlfriend’.”

Eyes widening, Rey lifted her gaze from the paper. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, the birthday boy’s girlfriend—”

Her pen clatter to the floor, a smamering blue of ink on her chin. “It’s _Ben’s_ birthday?”

“ _You didn’t know_?”

If she could not feel any more like shit…

Ben never mentioned his birthday and Rey never had the mind to ask. Idiotic considering they were more than friends…but wasn’t like Ben knew _her_ birthday.

He didn’t.

She was sure of it. And if he _did_ , well then you what, Rey knew she was far from perfect.

“No! But I know now!”

Hastily, Rey stood up, shoving her papers into her desk drawer. A few tumbled to the ground, her right hand fingers not gripping the copy fully through the slots of her cast. With an eyeroll, she picked them back up with her left hand and just placed them on her chair.

“I can’t bring boxed mac and cheese. Ugh, _stupid_ Ben and his _stupid_ face.”

“You seriously didn’t know?” Kaydel repeated, but then sighed, understanding crossing her face. “But that makes sense. Ben hates his birthday. Last year he ranted about his birthday for almost the entire duration of the session. Cassian let it slide because…well it was the most Ben ever talked in any session— _ever_.”

“Sounds like him,” Rey muttered, closing her laptop.

Glancing down at her clothes, she shrugged. Not terrible—cargo capris and navy blue sweater. Actually, she was pretty sure it was Ben’s navy blue sweater he left behind. Odd considering he did stop by at _some point._

Afterall his suitcase was gone and Kylo was nowhere to be found when she came back from grocery shopping the other day. He knew where the spare key was hidden, he could easily let himself into the apartment.

When she texted him about it, he only sent a thumbs up emoji, which was reassuring but also concerning. Ben _never_ sent emojis except for the occasional smiley face.

Checking her watch, Rey groaned. Only a few of hours before she needed to go to therapy. “Kay—I got to go and figure out what the hell I am going to do. See you soon!” She hung up before the woman could say anything else, tossing her phone into her purse.

“Four hours to figure out a gift and potluck dish,” Rey muttered, shrugging on her coat. “No problem— _no problem_.”

Only she wasn’t too sure how to face him since he was giving the silent treatment and barely acknowledged her existence. Not purposefully, but purposefully.

Scanning her room, Rey’s eyes landed on the yellow beanie sitting on her bedside table, the matching scarf rolled up beside it. She finished her project a few nights previous, the final product not as bad as she anticipated.

If she was being generous, Rey would say it was a near perfect match to her template. In all honestly, it would be a decent gift—better yet, the perfect gift for a certain moody thirty-three year old.

The idea was more than entertained, Rey grabbing the beanie and scarf before dashing out the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

From an early age, Ben _hated_ his birthday.

Mostly because the day was filled with false hope, fake smiles, and absentee parents.

But when November 29th rolled around, he was hit with the harsh reality he didn’t have anyone to celebrate his birthday with. No mother to dote and press lipstick stained kisses on his cheek. No father to show up late and hand him a gift he picked up from some tourist trap on his travels. No uncle to scold him over licking the frosting before cake time, or a grandfather to sneak him a few twenty dollar bills with a wink.

It was just Ben.

And Kylo.

And surprisingly Jyn and Cassian.

Since his little… _episode_ … a few days previous the two were kind enough to let him stop by whenever he felt lonely.

Which was apparently all the time these days. Ben definitely over stayed his welcome.

Though neither complained, simply setting another plate at the dinner table for him. Even let him crash their little Thanksgiving gathering, mostly their old friends attending, along with Jyn’s father. The man was nice enough, but continually mentioned how he worked on one of Leia’s campaigns ages ago. Ben smiled and nodded—like he always did at the mention of any of parents. At this point, he’d probably be giving everyone the same treatment whenever his mother or father was brought up.

A large mound of cake covered with red frosting sat before him. “What’s this?”

“A cupcake,” Jyn declared, pushing her reading glasses higher on her nose. Miraculously she had the day off, not needing to go in until sometime after four in the morning. Her husband on the other hand, didn’t. Group sessions sprinkled throughout the day, Sundays busy contrary to the majority of the world; the therapist had his days off during the Friday and Saturday rather than the traditional weekend. “I made it myself since I heard it was your birthday.”

He eyed the cupcake, tempted and touched by the gesture, but refrained from devouring the treat just yet. “Who told you that?”

The woman raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “Did you forget who my husband is?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “ _Right_.”

“Any plans for the day?”

“You mean…” Ben glanced at the microwave clock—it was half past three. “You mean for the rest of the afternoon until therapy?”

“Yes,” Jyn said. “It’s Sunday. Anything can happen on a Sunday.”

Ben hummed, but didn’t immediately agree.

His phone buzzed on the counter.

Picking it up, he dropped it back down when he saw who it was—

 

**_ Rey _ **

**_Happy Birthday <3_ **

 

 

Ben’s fingers tapped on the counter idly, before picking up the cupcake and licking the frosting.

“Rey?” Jyn asked knowingly.

He didn’t reply, eating his cupcake with more gusto. Not the best cupcake he’d ever eaten, but definitely a decent one, made with care. Ben couldn’t complain about that.

“You know, eventually you are going to have to talk to her,” she suggested, taking a sip of her coffee. “Tell her why you reacted the way you did and whatnot.”

Swallowing, Ben shook his head. “Or I could…just let this fade away. Slowly. Stop talking. Stop messaging. I’m not good for her and she’s not good for me.”

To his own ears his voice sounded mechanical; not even Ben would believe his stilted and awkward statement.

Jyn dumped more sugar into her coffee, stirring her spoon in counter-clockwise circles. “I think you’re wrong,” she said plainly.

“Excuse me?” Ben uttered, mouthful of cupcake.

“You are wrong,” she articulated slowly, standing tall. “Just because you are scared—”

He scoffed, “I’m not scared—”

“You _are_ ,” she interjected sharply, “Just because you are scared doesn’t mean you push away the person you love dearly. You need to do the exact opposite and hold them close.”

“But what if…what if I am not enough for her?” Ben breathed, crumpling the cupcake wrapper in his hands. “She’s brilliant, in a trainwreck sort of way, but she can be the sun and moon and stars without even realizing it. Yes, she can be cruel and selfish…but she also has the biggest _heart_ underneath it all—and I want to be with her.”

“Then what’s holding you back?” Jyn asked

“I’ll drag her down,” he said simply. “I…I started noticing it…I am _not_ perfect.”

Jyn scoffed. “No one is.”

“And I have made my mistakes and have my own demons, and I get trapped in my own thoughts.”

To put simply, he’d been awful the last few weeks. Within reason, as anyone would argue. His mother _did_ pass away and he was taking care of her affairs terribly, shrouded with nearly paralyzing grief. Talking to lawyers, cleaning up her house, living with the fact he wouldn’t be able to hear her pestering anymore.

How it was just him.

 _He was grieving_ , he reminded himself over and over. Was _still_ grieving.

But he blocked Rey out.

She gave her time and energy towards him and his family, and he treated her poorly. And while she forgave him and was moving forward, his guilt had a tendency to pile up in a corner of his mind and sink down into his chest. Heavy and waiting for him to implode.

And implode he did. At his own mother’s funeral reception.

What a pair they were—the girl who vomited and passed out at her grandfather’s funeral, ushered to the hospital for a stomach pump. And the man who walked out on his mother’s funeral reception after yelling at said girl who vomited at the previous funeral.

They were a mess alone _and_ together.

A match made in heaven.

Or _hell_ , depending on how you wanted to look at it.

While Rey made due diligence to remind him she _wasn’t_ perfect—she made mistakes, and had her own flaws—Ben realized he wasn’t providing the same transparency.

Sure, he opened up here and there. Spoke of his thoughts and feelings, chipped away at himself and handed her pieces of himself with shaky hands.

But was that enough?

He felt it wasn’t.

And he wasn’t too sure if he could ever give all of himself—demons and all—to her and not feel guilty for doing so. He wasn’t even sure he could take all her pain—live with both and still be the man he wanted to be.

He didn’t want to be her balm for pain and recuse light. And he didn’t want her to be his either.

Ben feared that’s where they’d land. Relying too much on the other to be happy, to be a form of a savior to their own demise. Putting more than hope and love into each other, making each other into personal saints rather than flawed humans.

“Like you are now?” Jyn observed. “Because you have been talking to yourself in circles for days. Why you should _and_ shouldn’t be with Rey—all because some fuckwad.”

Ben slumped at the mention of Palpatine. “He just…he knows how to hit the right buttons. Make me question every choice I made. Question my own sanity.”

Palpatine played the same tricks and taunts he used on Anakin, making him fear himself and the what ifs rather than see the truth.

Now Ben was all jumbled up inside, taking days to weed himself out of the pits of doubt.

“He gaslit and manipulated you,” Jyn reminded him, matching his gaze. “And what he said…maybe it has a little truth. But _you_ make your own truth—not anybody else.”

“My own truth?” Ben echoed. He heard the idea of ‘your own truth’ thrown around a few times, but he had no clue what it meant in his current situation.

“Your truth—who you were, who you are, who you want to be. Not the lies or comments people tell you, because in the end, only your opinion matters. I believe you want to be honest with yourself, honest with Rey.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, leaning back in his barstool, “I do. But I’m just…”

“Scared,” Jyn supplied, they coming back around to the root of the problem. She nodded once, lips quirking to the side. “Did you know Cassian proposed to me three times before I said ‘yes’?”

His eyebrows furrowed, confused by the sudden comment and the fact Jyn rejected Cassian. “What?”

“Yes,” Jyn hummed, putting her mug in the sink. “Because I thought I wasn’t good enough.”

“But you two are perfect for each other,” Ben stuttered, “why would you ever think you weren’t good enough?”

She shrugged a little. “Because he was everything I wasn’t, but also some of best and worst parts of me. He cared too much. And I feared my love would not match his.”

“That’s stupid,” he replied softly. “Anyone with eyes can see how much you two adore each other.”

If there was any couple Ben had seen in his life that appeared to be the realistic image of love, it was Jyn and Cassian. The two knew each other better than anyone else, and were in sync to the point it was freaky, in an endearing sort of way. They were always on each other’s team, fighting for one another and supporting in quiet ways.

Words did not need to spoken between the two to declared their devotion to one another.

A silent a fulfilling love to endure all troubles and triumphs of life.

Ben didn’t need that…

But he sure as hell _wanted_ that. Wanted that with Rey, for more than anything.

He didn’t need her, but he wanted her.

Ben simply wasn’t too sure if his _want_ warranted enough reason to tie her down with him.

“I can say the same about you and Rey,” Jyn quipped, a smirk on her lips. “But sometimes insecurities like to be loud and obnoxious. My only warning is not everyone is as persistent as Cassian. If you wait too long, you might lose her forever.”

Ben’s gut sank at the thought.

He thought of Rey moving on. Meeting someone else. Living a life with faceless man; a man who made her cackle until she couldn’t breathe. A man who made her coffee every morning just the way she liked it. A man who would love her from head to toe and know her in ways Ben would never have the chance nor opportunity to once all was said and done.

She living a life _without_ him.

It was possible.

Ben _could_ live his life without her. He had until three and a half months ago.

All were variables to consider…

How was it his therapist’s wife was able to get through to him better than his own damn therapist? Ridiculous.

“Jyn…” he began, careful with his words. “I have always let fear run my life.”

“I can tell.”

“How?”

She shrugged. “Takes one to know one.”

“And…I’ve never let, I guess, _joy_ , be a deciding factor. Everything I have ever done is out of fear.”

“Even getting sober?”

“Yes,” Ben murmured, “because after nearly dying and the car crash, I realized I didn’t want to die. The idea terrified me.”

He still woke up in the middle of the night panting, both instances playing on loop when his mind decided to go dormant.

Jyn hummed, but didn’t say anything further.

“Fear controls me. And I _hate_ it controls me. I don’t want Rey to become part of that. I don’t want to choose her out of fear of losing her, but out of the joy of wanting her in my life.”

“I think…” Jyn picked up an unfrosted cupcake from the pan, ripping off the wrapper, “you just answered your own problem, Ben.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

She was late.

Abso-fucking-lutely late.

All because she couldn’t figure out how to wrap the damn box. This was why people had other people wrap their gifts during the holidays, because it could look like trash. An exceptional piece of trash, but trash nonetheless.

Peeking through the door window, she noticed Cassian speaking, waving towards another person. Probably asking someone to ‘dig deeper’ or ‘elaborate.’ Silly little therapist-isms Cassian threw around like confetti.

From her vantage point she spotted Ben in his usual spot, rather disinterested.

His eyes then flickered to the door.

Rey ducked down, clutching her poorly wrapped gift and tubberware close to her chest.

Counting to ten under her breath, she looked over the glass frame.

Ben was still looking, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. His lips were pursed into a stubborn pout, as though daring her to hide again.

“ _Shit_.” No hiding away from him now.

Standing to her full height, Rey decided to bite the bullet and walk in as quietly as possible. She didn’t need to make more of a fool of herself than she already did.

“Ah, Rey nice of you to join us!” Cassian greeted the moment she entered. Her face felt hot, heat rushing up her spine to her neck as all eyes landed on her.

“Hi…” She waved awkwardly at the group, hoping she wasn’t shining bright red.

Sitting beside each other, Mitaka and Kaydel winced in pity, sharing a glance with each other.

There was only one seat open. Next to Ben.

Well, shit.

Biting her lips together, she quickly deposited her tubberware of store bought mac and cheese on the table and beelined to the chair as whoever was speaking—Snap, she was pretty sure it was Snap—was finishing up how he was doing with his dog or daughter. To be perfectly honest Rey wasn’t too sure.

Ben’s honey-brown eyes followed her at every step, until she was sitting beside him. He then had the decency to look away, focus on what Cassian was discussing with the group.

However his eyes flickered back to her a second later, lips pulled into a stern frown.

“ _What_?” she hissed.

He snapped his gaze away, jaw tightening.

Exhaling, Rey slumped in her seat.

“And how about you, Rey?” Cassian called out to her before she could get too comfortable. “How was your Thanksgiving?”

“Uh,” she scratched the back of her neck. She absolutely did not want to talk about her Thanksgiving—she enjoyed it, but she knew the looks of pity she’d receive if she even attempted to describe the day. “You know…like everyone else’s.”

Her vague answer was met with a less than impressed look. “Wasn’t this the first Thanksgiving without your grandfather?”

His reminder washed over her like cold water, Rey giving an involuntary gasp.

She and her grandfather were never Thanksgiving people. No large dishes with sweet potatoes, or a turkey and mashed potatoes on the side.

Their Thanksgiving usually amounted to copious amounts of their favorite take-out restaurant and watching the _Peanuts_ special, followed by hot chocolate. Just the two of them, side by side and giggling at Snoopy. Before heading to bed, he’d give her a kiss on her forehead, a whisper of—“ _I’m thankful for you_ ” heard, followed by a hair ruffle.

She could picture now, a sweet, wholesome memory she could keep for herself and only herself.

Avoiding the group’s waiting and imploring eyes, she stared hard at her lap.

Chipping at her nail polish, she searched for a way to speak without sounding completely insensitive or like a dipshit.

“Um, it was actually nice. I mostly spent the day by myself.” She already heard the pity gasps. “Not that I minded,” Rey was quick to interject. “I enjoyed being alone…and I haven’t enjoyed being alone in a really long time.” A smile formed on her lips, finding herself speaking earnestly. “My roommate was out of town, spending the holiday with his boyfriend’s family and so it was just me. I ordered Chinese and ate more than any one should in one sitting.” A chuckle bubbled out of her, recalling how she ate several boxes of mushroom chicken throughout the night. “I watched some awful _Hallmark_ movies and made homemade hot chocolate. And failed at it twice before finally getting the milk temperature right.” She had two burned pans sitting in the sink when Finn returned home the following day, he helping her scrub them as he hashed out his Thanksgiving to her. “I didn’t think about anything else, just had fun. And I _loved_ it.”

She did love it, despite everything seemingly telling her otherwise. Spending time alone, without aching for someone else. Without feeling lonely.

Not that she didn’t miss Ben. She _did_. She wanted him there.

But she didn’t miss him in the way of lost love, or how she imagined lost love to be. Nor did she miss him like a loved passed or forever gone.

Rey missed him in the sense she knew deep down he’d be coming back, and she didn’t need to worry or fret. Her mind didn’t trail to him with crippling anxiety. Just a fact he needed his space and knowing facing him would be a bridge she’d need to cross later, but not then.

For once, she let herself enjoy the present.

And she didn’t _need_ Ben to do that.

She didn’t need anyone to enjoy life. A _freeing_ realization.

Across from her, Cassian gave her a proud smile.

“Good, Rey. I’m happy to hear that.” His attention then fell on the man beside her. “How about you, Ben?”

“It was okay. Had some nice friends who let me stay with them for the day. I appreciated it. Got my mind off my mom.”

Cassian nodded once, finding the answer sufficient, continuing with the rest of the circle.

Rey watched Ben out of the corner of her eye, he shifting in his seat.

Honey-brown caught her hazel.

Her lips twitched.

His brows furrowed.

Neither said anything.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Happy Birthday, Ben!” Mitaka cheered, handing him a small square box.

He shook the box by his ear. Nothing rattled nor shook, almost empty, yet the weight of the package told him otherwise. “What the hell is this?”

“Open it to find out,” the boy insisted, nudging him.

Unprepared, Ben ripped off the ribbon and shook off the lid—

To find a pin safely embedding into a cushion.

Squinting, Ben read the words out loud. “Grumpy Dark Lord.” His face fell, knowing it put the fear of God in him. “Thanks Mitaka.”

Panic flashed in the young man’s eyes. “I thought it was funny—"

Ben chuckled, clapping him on the back. “Dude, calm down. It is funny—I like it. I’ll even put it on now.” With fumbling hands, he pulled the pin out and attached it to his gray sweater. “There. Now I feel complete.”

Relief washed over Mitaka’s features, he rushing into a full force hug. Ben’s arms hung in the air for a brief instant, at a loss. Gaining some sense, he hugging the young man back, making sure he hugged like her meant it, giving true affection.

Cassian always mentioned how Ben needed to sometimes make it known he cared. Especially with a softie like Mitaka. So he tried for the kid, and it was worth it.

Letting him go, Mitaka rushed to be beside Rey, attached to her at the hip since the session ended. Only a few people stayed behind for the birthday potluck, much to Ben’s relief. Sunday’s were always a hit or miss, the sessions longer and right before the start of the week. He’d been bombarded with hugs and a forced kiss on the cheek from Maz. Thoughtful cards were handed to him, before the potluck was attacked, those who remained eating to their heart’s content.

His core therapy group stuck around, each with a gift. An unexpected gesture, but not one Ben would shy away from.

“I made you a necklace.” Kaydel was quick to jump in, throwing said beaded necklace around him. “It has an amethyst crystal to promote balance and relaxation. Which you can always use more of if I am being perfectly honest.”

Ben picked up the purple stone, eyeing it curiously. Kaydel was a brew of contradictions, but she was thoughtful and opinionated, a breath of fresh air after a long day. He could not help but be amused by her gift.

“Thanks Kay. The stone is…pretty.”

She grinned proudly, patting him on the shoulder. Glancing behind her, she nodded to the brunette seemingly hiding further and further behind Mitaka—a futile task considering Rey and the teenager were roughly the same height. “I think Rey has something for you as well… _right_?”

Her harsh hiss knocked Rey back into gear, she standing tall.

As she came forward, Ben’s throat dried, all words he planned to say wiped from his mind.

A box was shoved into his chest. “I made this for you.”

His eyes dropped down, cringing involuntarily at the sight.

Yellow cartoon sunflowers covered the box, the folds of the wrapping paper ripped and dented from all corners. A sticky bow was slapped on top, lopsided but standing proud.

A hasty job by unpracticed hands.

Or rather, one handed. Rey’s wrist donned a bright blue cast, Ben connecting the dots as soon as he’d seen her.

A broken wrist due to punching Palpatine. A well earned injury for a good cause.

He glanced back down at the wrapping paper. Honestly, she didn’t need to wrap the present. Kaydel didn’t, and Mitaka’s barely passed for wrapping considering it was the box the pin came in when shipped.

However, it was the thought that count.

“Oh, uh—”

“Don’t open it now,” she muttered, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. Her hair was pulled into a half up and half down style, a bit greasy. A spot of white shined where she didn’t brush in her dry shampoo. Her eyeliner was smeared, leaving marks under her eyes. Ben wouldn’t have been surprised if it was day old make-up, Rey awful at remembering to wash her face. Her nose was too often in a book or notebook, mind always somewhere else than taking care of her basic needs. Like washing her face.

He schooled his eyes to not look anywhere else but her face. He noticed early on she’d been wearing his favorite sweater, he forgetting it at her apartment in his haste to leave. That’s why he couldn’t stop staring at her—he loved the sight. Loved the thought of her stealing his clothes without a second guessing and just being part of him.

“Why not?” Ben asked, glancing down at the gift. “I’m sure—.”

Rey held her hands up, not wanting to hear him. “ _Just_ —at least while I am here don’t open it,” she clarified. She checked her watch, a hapless shrug bouncing her shoulders. Her forced smile caused an ache in his chest. “I need to get going. Train to catch, ya know.”

She left with a wave and muttered goodbye, ignoring Ben’s call after her.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” Kaydel asked. “It must be important if she is turning into a hermit.”

Glaring at her, Ben ripped off the wrapping paper, letting it drift to the ground. He opened the lid of the thin cardboard box, it flopping back, dangling by a piece of long tape. Tissue paper practically poured out of the package, Ben tossing the flimsy and crinkled sheets. His efforts stopped when his hand touched the _familiar_ pattern.

Loops and knots and the gentle coarseness of yarn.

 

_Soft hands brushed away his moppy dark hair._

_His mother tsked at their unruliness, always a bother and delight. She loved to hate his hair, and hated to love his hair._

_“Ben, it’s cold. I don’t want your ears to freeze.”_

_She flicked his fuddy-duddy ears, a joyous giggle erupting from him._

_With tender care, a cap was placed on his hair. Coarse yet comforting. Covering his ears all the way down to the lobe and hitting right above his eyebrows._

_“There son—now you can go outside. Don’t loose that hat. Mama made it special for you.”_

 

A soft gasp escaped him.

Carefully Ben removed the yellow cap and scarf from the box, letting the cardboard join the pile he created.

“What is it?”

“It’s…it’s _my_ beanie.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The moment Rey handed him the box—she regretted it.

She was stupid, absolutely stupid. And a _coward_. A silly little coward.

Yes, she loved him.

That much was obvious.

But his reaction to her that evening and cold shoulder, only caused her to question _everything_.

Question if she really mattered to him, if maybe she over thought or was susceptible to wishful thinking. Question if Ben was just nice and was using her as a distraction—a dumb thought considering how much they sacrificed and did for one another in such a short amount of time.

And there was _that_.

To the rest of the world, they were probably ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

Rey only knew Ben for a couple of months and it was in _group therapy_ of all places. They barely had a romantic relationship! If she attempted to explain this to anyone outside of their friends, they’d think she was nuts or searching for self-destruction.

Yet she heard it was his birthday, and decided to give him something she barely knew how to fucking make herself.

Cassian said to make use of hobbies in the grieving process and while Rey was shit at crocheting, some part of her decided to make something for Ben Solo.

A brooding Ben Solo who refused to speak to her beyond monosyllables these days.

One Ben Solo she loved and hated. Because she knew they’d be _fine_ , but she hated the feeling of limbo. The in-between state where she knew they were on the verge of crossing some unknown bridge, not knowing where they were going.

Feelings of anxiety and panic she shoved away for days finally came back in whirlwind. All the words and digging comments the stupid arsehole raisin threw at her made a comeback when she sat in her lonesome on the train.

Ben was too old for her.

Ben had his own baggage and she did too.

Ben would get _bored_ with her. Move on. Live his life. Have a family—no scratch that, he didn’t want kids. He’d have a _bunch_ of rescue dogs. A doggy dad.

Bottomline, he would leave her, and she would be _alone_.

And while she learned to enjoy being alone, content with herself, she didn’t want to be fucking _lonely,_ goddamn it.

If she was lucky, he wouldn’t even open the damn box.

Yet somehow the thought of him not opening the box hurt more than him seeing the atrocity she cobbled up together through sleepless nights of insomnia and carefully curated wallow music.

_Pathetic._

Drowning her sorrows in alcohol seemed ideal but counter intuitive; she promised herself not to turn back to the bottle, not since she blackout back in October.

Instead, she made coffee and put on the _Hallmark Channel_ because if she was going to feel _this_ pathetic, she might as well go all the way without getting intoxicated or inhibited. Bad acting and predictable storylines could be the flimsy band-aid to her woes.

Sitting through the opening cheery credits of _Blue Lake Love_ , Rey ignored the itch in her fingers to grab her keys and go to the closest liquor shop three blocks away.

Instead she decided to make hot chocolate. Hot chocolate, coffee, and tea were quickly becoming her substitutes whenever she felt panicked and the idea drinking popped into her mind.

She didn’t need alcohol to soothe her anxieties. Not anymore.

Pouring milk into the pan, Rey focused all her attention on making herself hot chocolate. She got it right once, she was planning on making it two out of five.

An insistent knock sounded from the door.

So much for making hot chocolate and wallowing.

Setting the pan aside, she turned off the burner.

Another round of knocks pounded on her door.

Probably Finn forgetting his key, or Mitaka ready to babble to her about something or the other, despite the time.

“Damn it! I am coming. Cool the fuck down!”

She swung open the door. Her jaw dropped, her next string of curses choked back.

Ben Solo stood on the other side.

Yellow beanie on his head and scarf wrapped around his neck, he wearing the ensemble proudly.

“Hi,” he uttered, shoulders slumping. “Um, can I come in?”

“ _No_.”

He winced, attempting to catch his breath. “Okay.” He leaned a hand against the door frame, eye locked on her the entire time. “ _Okay_ , that’s fine. But can I get a glass of water?”

She rolled her eyes, not providing his request. “Why are you here?” she asked peering up at him quizzically. “Shouldn’t you be home or eating cake, or some other birthday shit?”

“Where did you get this pattern?” He pointed to his beanie, the yarn stretched comfortably over his head.

She was stunned she guessed his measurements correctly. Part of her thought she crocheted the beanie too small. Not that she’d mind, a smaller beanie would have been equally as amusing, if not more than Ben simply wearing a mustard yellow cap on his head.

Rey schooled her features, nearly giggling at the image her brain conjured up. “Why?” she asked, the intensity behind Ben’s honey-brown gaze bringing her back to reality.

“Because my mom made up this pattern. She used it for all my beanies growing up.”

Oh, she didn’t know that. She knew that particular black beanie had been his favorite for some time, though the thought never occurred to her that the specific beanie may be a long succession of several Ben Solo beanies.

His presence suddenly made a lot more sense. Ben wanted to cling to what was left of his mother.

Shifting from foot to foot, Rey opened the door a little wider. “You can come in,” she offered, walking further into the apartment. Behind her, she heard Ben shut the door. No doubt he’d be standing awkwardly in the living room waiting for her, acting as though he hadn’t practically lived with her for a week and a half.

For someone so intelligent, he sure did act like an idiot nine times out of ten.

Going to her room, she grabbed the black beanie she used as a template.

Once back in the living room, she gave the beanie to him.

Awe washed over his face, joy and pain morphing together as he gazed down at the old, worn beanie.

“I got it from the house when we were cleaning. I used it as an example since Leia passed before she could finish teaching me.”

“Oh,” Ben breathed, fingers dancing across the black yarn delicately. Memories were woven into the pattern, memories only Ben possessed, and would until his dying days. A memento of a former him he was slowly learning to embrace every day.

“I know yellow is not really your preferred color, but it was what I had.”

His honey-brown eyes snapped to her. “I love it. Yellow and all.”

Rey blinked, a shy grin twitching on her lips. “Oh…then I guess that is good.”

Hand reaching for hers, Ben placed the black beanie back into her palm. “You should keep this. For future reference.”

“But it’s yours—”

“So you can make me another once this one is worn and abused.”

Biting her lips together, Rey snorted. “You want me to make you more beanies?”

“I want you to make as many beanies for me as you want.” Ben’s hand clasped her own, giving a light squeeze. “Because you actually not half bad at it.”

“Are you telling me I am _good_ at something?” She chortled, the anxieties she felt moments ago falling to ashes as she became alight once again. “Who knew Ben Solo knew how to give compliments.”

“I compliment you.”

“Never on my hobbies.”

“Because you are shit at them.”

His head lowered, his forehead pressing lightly against hers.

Their breath mingled as neither spoke, eyes searching each other, pleading and relishing.

“I don’t want to break-up.” Ben’s words ghosted over her lips.

“I don’t either.”

“Then let’s _not_?”

She nodded, closed mouth smile fighting for freedom.

“I’m sorry. For how I acted. How I lashed out and panicked. It’s not an excuse, but I…I was scared,” he confessed, eyes closed and nose bumping hers. “I was really scared that all my fears and insecurities would come true. But I’m not anymore. Because I don’t need you, Rey.”

Her mind stuttered. Did he _just_ say—

“Excuse me?” She recoiled, blinking widely at him. “I thought we were having a _moment_ —”

Ben’s hand brushed up her neck and cupped her face, his eyes inhaling her. “I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone to be happy. I don’t need anyone to not be scared. But I _want_ you, Rey. All of you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Even the awful cooking and weird shit you do.” A giggle burst through her, a large boyish smile blooming from Ben at the sound. “I want all of that, because you mean _everything_ to me. And how can I be scared of that?”

Overwhelmed by his full and embodying declaration—and essentially overemotional word vomit—Rey felt her eyes water, a relieved chuckle croaking out of her.

Pushing up on her toes, she surged forward, her lips meeting his. A soft gasp escaped him, a relieved whimper coming from the back of his throat. Her hands gripped the front of his sweater, holding him as close to her for as long as possible. An eagerness and tenderness mingled in harmony, an excitement thriving within them.

Because she _wanted_ all of him too; she’d choose Ben again and again and again no matter how their lives played out. He was hers and she was his, and they just needed to _want_ their future enough to make this moment happen.

Breaking away, Ben sighed against her. His gentle hand away her messy mop of hair. “I love you, _please_ know that. I love you, even when we are both our worst.”

“I love you too,” she pulled the corner of his yellow beanie closer to his ear, the cap falling lopsided in their embrace. “At our best _and_ our worst,” she corrected, the pad of her thumbs wiping away his tears. “Because I need you to know that. You are still loved when you feel your worst. Someone still _cares_ about you, and always will. I always will. Despite whatever we may have felt in the past or will feel in the future, we are not alone. We have each other. And I am not easily swayed away.” She snorted, wiping her nose with the back of her left hand. “If I was, I would have not let you step foot in here ages ago…but you’re wonderful, Ben, even if you can’t fully see it yet. I believe in you and all you’ve done to get where you are.”

His face softened, the conviction of her words sinking into him. While she did not know each detail of his life, Rey knew his pain. She felt it in her own bones and knew he needed to hear, in deep earnest, he was loved.

Because she needed to hear it too; her scars of abandonment and loneliness were still in the process of healing, just like his.

But she wasn’t doing this alone.

No, instead she was choosing to have some by her side. Someone to hold her hand through it all.

Ben’s warm lips pressed to her temple. “It’s shitty world full of shitty people, we got to look out for the decent ones. And I’m positive you are decent; better yet, _wonderful_.” Hands danced lazy circles on her back, Ben having zero intention of releasing her. “And we _did_ make a promise to look out for each other,” he teased.

Rey smirked against his chest; she was pretty sure she found more than a decent one.

She found her _hope_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The main message? They don't need each other to be happy. But they are choosing each other because they make each other happy and are more than a source of happiness :) And for these characters and what they have gone through, I think it is important to recognize what they mean to each other and what they expect from one another.
> 
> And on top of it all--REY FOUND HER HOBBY! :D And she could think about her grandfather without pain, but with joy. Subtle growth my dear readers. Subtle growth.
> 
> Needless to say, I cried while writing about her Thanksgiving experience.
> 
> And the quote from clementine is here because when I heard the song I felt all of the 'finding a hobby' vibes and knew it summed up how I wanted the last chapter to feel.
> 
> Next up is Epilogue :D


	13. epilogue: five years later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are.
> 
> Let's go friends.
> 
>  
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of pregnancy in great length in this chapter. If it is not for you, the previous chapter can serve as an ending and I will include a brief recap of what happened in this chapter's end notes.

* * *

 

 

 

“ _Shit_ ,” Rey groaned through the drudges of sleep. Awkwardly, she twisted in her bed and away from the burning light.

Except there was no escape, her husband’s all to encompassing body preventing her from wiggling or moving.

Reluctantly, her eyes cracked open, the pressure of the rising sun too unbearable to withstand.

She could have sworn— _Wait_.

 _Right_ —she and Ben had yet to purchase blinds for their bedroom. Which made the sleep situation less than pleasant in the morning. Half awake, she made the mental note to go to the closest _Target_ or _Bed, Bath & Beyond_ that afternoon.

Contrary to the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window, Rey’s eyes began to droop once more, the heavy warmth of Ben’s arm and torso lulling her back to sleep…

Until the thumping swell of music soared her back to the world of the living.

 

“ _Oh don't you dare look back_

_Just keep your eyes on me I said you're holding back_

_She said shut up and dance with me…”_

 

“Shut it off,” Ben murmured into her neck. His heavy arm was slung over her waist, pulling Rey closer to his chest. Drowsy lips pressed against her skin, halfhearted kisses peppering her collarbone. _Tempting_ her.

If it were the weekend, she would have shut off the alarm and gone right back to sleep. However, it was a Friday and Ben still had work despite his refusal to get up.

Face scrunching, the song—"Shut Up and Dance” by WALK THE MOON—continued to blare from her cellphone. Once upon a time, she adored the song, except she made the absolute poor decision to set it as her alarm.

Because once a song is set to an alarm clock, it was _forever_ tainted.

Blindly, she reached for her phone. A proven difficult task considering half her body was trapped under Ben’s. Wiggling away, her right hand finally grasped her phone, tapping the alarm clock off.

Yet Ben had zero inclination to get up, snuggling closer to her.

“Babe, I need to get up,” Rey lightly nudged him away. “You need to get up. You have a class to teach—”

“I can call in sick.”

“You called in ‘sick’ last week when we were moving.”

He rolled away from her, face-first into his pillow. An aggravated and muffled groan came from the back of his throat, Ben curling further away from her.

These days she wondered if he was more thirty-seven or seven year old, his petulance either endearing or bothersome on most occasions.

A quiet, ‘ _fine’_ came from him a second later, Ben forcing himself up and out of bed.

Only to trip over a lingering box.

“Damn it,” he grumbled, catching himself on the edge of the bed. “We need to finish unpacking tomorrow before I lose a limb.”

Snorting, Rey picked up her discarded sweater from the floor. “We can do that this weekend, once the wedding is over and we can all resume our lives as normal.”

Her assurance fell upon deaf ears as urgency finally consumed Ben, he glancing frantically at his watch—a wristwatch he was fumbling to put on with both his shirt and pants unbuttoned and untucked.

Eyeing him up and down, Rey was pretty sure he picked up the slacks he wore the previous day, but she wasn’t going to correct him when he was on a time crunch. Plus, it wasn’t as though teenagers would notice that type of thing…

Right?

“It’s six-forty-five. I have to get there by seven-fifteen, with traffic-shit, shit, _shit_ ,” he muttered, digging through an open suitcase.

Grabbing a pair of socks, he looked around the room. His eyes squinted, about ready to drop on all fours in his search.

“Where are my—”

Rey held his glasses out to him, a small smile on her lips. He snatched his spectacles, pressing a sweet kiss of thanks to her cheek.

“Have I mentioned I love your glasses?” she mused, watching as Ben continued to scurry about the room, now looking for a complimentary sweater and tie. She didn’t need to leave the house until a little after eight, the bookshop not opening until ten; Rey could take her time in the mornings—unlike her dear partner. But that didn’t stop her from chatting his ear off most mornings about whatever happened to be on her mind. “Mostly because I don’t have to watch you squint at papers any more. Do you know how low-key aggravating that was? You squinting at something right _in front_ of your face, acting as though you were fine when you clearly we—”

“Sweetheart, I love you, but I _need_ to go.” He met her for a quick kiss, before dashing out the door, Kylo yapping after him. “See you later and thank you for forcing me up!”

“Remember you need to pick up your suit from the dry cleaners!” she shouted after him. “Can’t have you wearing denim jeans to a wedding!”

“Got it!”

His departure was punctuated by a slam of the front door.

Only for it to open again a second later.

“I forgot the papers!” he called out, shuffling around the living room heard, followed by another slam of the door.

Once it seemed Ben was truly gone, Rey got up and made her way to the kitchen. Behind her Kylo followed, waiting for his breakfast. He was a dog on a schedule and if this move ruined anything for anyone, it was Kylo. Never mind Rey and Ben who now had to take different commutes and still needed to unpack and change all their mailing addresses.

Moving seemed like a bright idea a few months ago. They needed somewhere to live, at least for the time being. Ben’s studio apartment was too cramped and felt like…well… _Ben’s apartment_. Nothing to note of Rey, and not necessarily _theirs_. The space didn’t feel like a home, no matter how hard Rey tried.

And Leia’s house was a work in progress.

After a couple of years of renting rooms out to Rey, Kaydel, and _surprisingly_ , Mitaka, Ben decided to bite the bullet, knowing what he had to do—

Renovate and remodel.

All courtesy of his surmountable inheritance from the Organa side of the family.

He made a promise to his parents to not sell the property, however certain areas of the house were in a major need of an update—Like the roof and pluming to simply name a few.

Apparently his father was a master at the upkeep, always working on house projects while alive, but he fell behind once he got up in age.

Ben wanted to take a page from Han’s book—slowly fix up the house until it was ready to be properly lived in again. Which meant he and Rey were not _technically_ living in their actually house for another year or so.

This led the couple to rent a reasonably priced cottage on the outskirts of Takodana as their first _official_ home together.

It was weird to think they had a home. _Together_. Like a real married couple.

Part of her wondered if it was some off the wall, fucked up dream. Her— _Rey Kenobi_ —who had never even kissed a man let alone date one, less than five years ago was, married?

Talk about bizarre. Her past self would cackle and then flip her off for saying such a thing.

Yet it was the truth.

 

“Because that’s what you are,” Cassian reminded her once during their weekly sessions. “You are now a wife and you have a husband.”

“Eh, it still sounds weird.”

“But that’s what you are.”

“Am I though?”

“Yes, you have a certificate that says so.”

 

Kylo yapped by her heels, licking the back of her legs. “Alright boy, alright. I got it. Food first before anything.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Maybe it was poor etiquette to bring Kylo with her to work, but when had Rey ever followed proper etiquette? The dog had been lonesome the last few weeks, shuffled about with all the moving and spent little time with she and Ben as they were putting finishing touches to the wedding. A poor circumstance considering Rey hated leaving Kylo alone at the house too many hours in the day. That’s when her dear dog decided to cause some trouble—restroom accidents in spite, chewing up shoes due to boredom.

Kylo loved company, an affectionate dog despite his skittish beginnings, and Rey knew sometimes compromise needed to be made under such matters.

“Aw, you brought the beast,” Finn greeted as Rey unlocked the front door. His arms were laden with their latest shipment, sparing her and her dog a less than pleased frown.

Rey scowled at friend as she unleashed Kylo. The canine scampered off to one of his hiding spots in the upper loft, not sparing Finn a glance.

“Don’t call him that—Kylo is a sweetheart.”

Finn’s nose wrinkled, eyeing the leash in her hand warily. “He doesn’t like me.”

“Because he smells Poe’s cat on you.”

He didn’t seem pleased by the answer but didn’t argue, choosing to resume his work. Kylo had never been a fan of Finn and neither Rey or Ben could get their dog to budge of his distaste for their friend. The animosity between dog and friend did not waver, even after five years.

Setting her purse and Kylo’s leash down behind the counter, Rey joined Finn at the main display table. A new onslaught of bestsellers were brought in, predominately Sci-Fi YA Fiction or some new memoir from a current popular celebrity.

Except for a few… _One_ in particular.

Not a bestseller, but written by a little nobody author.

“Would you look at that!” Finn scanned the book in his hand, feigning shock. “A book by the one and only Rey Kenobi-Solo?”

Rey rolled her eyes, snatching the book from him. “It has been out for less than a year and has barely caught the public’s attention. Don’t make it into something bigger than it is,” she warned, dusting off the novel— _Drying Sunflowers_.

A pretentious title she _didn’t_ pick, but one Ben chose because he thought it fitting.

Rey went along with his decision because she was on the verge of tearing her hair out with her deadlines last December.

A simple story about a young woman learning how to let go of the past and move forward, to find a way to grieve her grandfather.

She received several side-eyed glances when she told her friends the premise, many claiming she writing about herself rather than a fictional story. Naturally Rey flipped them off and went into a long rant explain how exactly the story was _different_ than her own life—merely _inspired_ by her life.

For instance, there wasn’t group therapy nor a romance. Very much a self-realization journey.

In other words, a hard sell to publishers.

But she found one, her contacts from her previous work were able to get her through the door.

Apparently co-writing Leia’s memoir gave her more than just an opportunity to connect with the remarkable woman, but name recognition. A chance to be her own writer with weight in the field.

“But come on, it is pretty cool to see your name on the cover with a story you wrote,” Finn nudged her side, grinning proudly. “You poured your heart and soul into this. It’s just about time people start realizing they were sleeping on this brilliant story.

Biting her lips together, Rey brought her friend into a hug. “Thank you,” she mumbled into his shoulder. Pulling away, she wiped her eyes, groaning. “Ugh, sorry about the tears. I’ve been so weepy lately.”

“ _Really_?” Finn’s eyebrows rose. He turned to the display, setting the books down nicely as he spoke. “Because…from what I’ve read…sometimes people, especially women get weepy when—”

“No,” Rey said sharply. “I know where you are going and no. No. I’m on the pill. Ben and I don’t want kids. We have been on the same page since the beginning.”

“But you two would have _beautiful_ children!” Finn bemoaned. “Think of the pretty loose curls they’ll have and the brown eyes, and the _ears_ Rey! Think of the ears!” He swooned, clutching his heart.

She grabbed the stack of books away from him. “I am not susceptible to baby-fever. So cool it.”

Finn shook his head, going back to the boxes to retrieve more books. “When was the last time you had your period?”

“Excuse me?” she whirled on him, aghast. “That is _not_ a question you ask.”

“I lived with you and I know your cycle—”

“—that’s a bit invasive.”

“When did you have your period?” he asked once more.

She shrugged. “I don’t know sometime in September.”

A bright smug grin bloomed, Finn absurdly giddy.

“We’re _November_ honey!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was not that Rey and Ben didn’t want children.

They just _didn’t want children._

Neither had the best childhoods on the planet. They had loving families, but there was much more anxiety surrounding the issue than simply not wanting to be a parent.

For Ben, it was not wanting to become like _his_ parents.

Accidently neglect his child or not give them the love and attention they so clearly needed when they were small and breakable in every way imaginable.

An understandable anxiety. One she also had, but with more laden in it.

“I mean I can’t be you know…” she waved to her stomach area, “…cooking can I?”

Cassian raised an eyebrow, mouth opening and closing. “You…you don’t want to say the word?”

“Not really,” she squeaked.

He nodded once, writing down on his notepad.

“What are you writing down?”

His eyes snapped up to her. “Just how you don’t want to say the word. I won’t use it either if that makes you feel better. We can call it something else.”

Rey hummed, slumping lower on the sofa. “Let’s call it… _pumpernickel_.”

She might have passed a bakery on her way to the train station, warm and butter smells hitting her nostrils on her trek.  The scent of pumpernickel bread sent her heart racing and stomach growling.

Cassian’s tongue clicked, he setting down his notepad. “Okay let say you might be… _pumpernickel_ -ed,” he began, “let’s look at the facts on why you might think this. You missed your period.”

“Yes,” she nodded once, “Twice.” She might have lied about the period thing to Finn; she double checked her tracker and realized she last bled in _August_. Not September like she thought. “But one of the side effects mentioned about the pill I’m on is skipped periods.”

“How long have you used this pill?”

“For five years.”

“And have you ever skipped a month?”

“…No.”

Cassian nodded slowly. “Okay. So do you use any other forms of protection? Like condoms, maybe?”

“No—I’m in a serious relationship.”

“You’re married,” Cassian reminded her lightly.

“Do you know anyone who still uses condoms when on the pill and they are in a serious relationship?” She didn’t let Cassian answer, continuing to barrel on through. “I mean, we are careful. But also, Ben and I are married. It’s not like I am sleeping with some random dude. Ben’s my _husband_. I don’t think too hard about the protection part to be perfectly honest.” She chewed her bottom lip. “And…I may have accidently skipped taking my pill a couple of days here and there, but that was because the pharmacy didn’t have my prescription refill and then I had to call the doctor—it was a whole debacle and neither Ben or I thought anything more of it…”

Across from her Cassian remained the picture perfect image of _calm_. Listening with a thoughtful and calculated nods as she continued to rant about her own stupidity for forgetting to take her pill.

Once she started talking herself into circles, her therapist cleared his throat, catching her attention.

“I am not a physician in that sense, but if you feel signs are pointing you towards…pumpernickel-ness, then how does that make you feel?”

“Anxious,” she answered immediately, able to identify _exactly_ what she was feeling. The quickening of her heart, biting of her nails, the need to vomit and vomit and vomit until she disappeared into the floor and act like her life wasn’t happening at all what-so-ever. “Because neither of us would want this…”

“You sound a bit unsure.”

Rey huffed, hugging a throw pillow close to her. “Well…I thought I’d die alone. But look, I’m _not_. And I thought I’d never want to have kids…and the possibility is glaring at me.”

In all frankness, Rey never entertained the possibility of having children and becoming a mother. Having a family felt like an idiotic and childish fantasy, one she never quite understood.

For one, she never knew her mother—could not recall an instance or memory of her mother’s affections. If she thought hard enough, she could fool herself into blurry recollections, claim her mother pulled her hair into the little knots she favored as a child or pressed kisses to her forehead.

Yet that would be an illusion. A false reality Rey had long let go.

And the mothers she did know? Not many to put a name to, except one; Leia.

Leia who cared but struggled, and sat with guilt for part of her adult life. Because she felt she didn’t do enough for her son.

And she didn’t. But that was rabbit hole Rey didn’t need to tumble down. She knew the facts and the biases from both mother and son. Thinking about such things would only twist her fears tighter.

Then there was actually interacting and caring for a baby.

Rey wouldn’t know the first thing to do with the damn squishy thing. Sure, people blabbed on and on about how motherly instinct would kick in, like it was some part of the brain that clicked once the baby was in her arms.

But obviously that wasn’t the case for many woman.

Second of all, she never really interacted with children. Of any age. Not as an adult nor as a teen, and then the only children she did interact while growing up were those her own age.

Rey had never truly held a baby in her damn life. And the prospect was _terrifying_.

But it was less terrifying when she thought of Ben being by her side, like he always promised.

How he’d hold a child, make them giggle abundantly. How he’d cuddle the squishy thing…it sort of made her consider the possibility with less apprehension.

Because despite his initial protests years ago…Ben would be a _great_ father. Do their kid right, make sure to be there for them. Make sure to do what his parents didn’t and keep what they did do _right_.

But she…she would be a terrible mother.

Absolutely terrible.

And how the hell was a human supposed to grow in her and then be popped out of her through—

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Logically she knew how women were biologically capable of conceiving and the mechanics of labor, but it was a hard ‘nope’ from her.

“Do you want to be pumpernickel-ed?” Cassian asked in all seriousness.

“I don’t know,” Rey confessed. “I’d need to think about it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ll have the pumpernickel bread please,” Rey’s eyes scanned the menu, humming at the selection. “And a black co—” She squeezed her eyes shut; caffeine wasn’t a good thing to drink while pregnant, right? She already screwed that up, drinking two cups of coffee that morning.  “Actually, I’ll just take a hot chocolate.”

The boy behind the counter nodded, ringing up her order. As Rey paid for her food, her eyes darted around the bakery. The lunch crowd had already faded away as one o’clock came nearing.

Besides the employees, there was hardly anyone there are the little corner bakery…except for a young father and his toddler daughter, sitting at the corner booth.

Honestly, it was as if the universe was out to harass her.

His honey hair flopped in his face, both typing on his laptop and bouncing his daughter on his knee. The girl paid him little mind, more fascinated with her chewy toy than anything.

Blue eyes met her gaze, the little girl giggling at Rey.

Just giggling.

For no reason.

Yeah, kids were weird as shit.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Entering the local CVS, Rey scanned the aisles casually, basket in hand.

It was far enough from home where she wouldn’t for some reason randomly run into Ben, and then it was far enough from the Takodana Wellness Center where she wouldn’t run into anyone else she knew.

Perfect location to buy anything discreet.

She grabbed a magazine from the extensive rack. Moseying through the store, she continued to nonchalantly throw things in her basket—a water bottle, a chocolate bar, some nail polish she’d never use, eyeliner because you could never have too much eyeliner…

And then she dumped almost an entire rows of pregnancy tests into her basket.

Roughly ten.

Ten was sufficient. Easy to break into percentages and whatnot.

Examining the shelf once more, Rey nodded to herself.

She just needed to pee on a few sticks.

Not a big deal. At all. Whatsoever.

Satisfied, she marched on forward, ready to beeline to the register and then then back to the bookshop before she needed to get ready for the wedding.

However, the universe _hated_ Rey.

With an unadulterated passion, to the point she thought on more than one occasion she was cursed.

Because as she rounded the corner, she collided into one of the last people she ever wanted to see at the moment.

“Rey—shit, sorry!” Mitaka’s frantic cries came out, he dropping his laden arms of snacks, gum, and condoms.

Unfortunately, Rey’s basket took a tumble as well. Pregnancy tests were scattered between them.

Both stood frozen, eyes locked on each other.

Mitaka opened and closed his mouth, gapping like a fish. His eyes jumped from her to the pregnancy tests on the floor.

“Holy shit are you—”

“Shut up and pick them up, damn it!”

Rey dropped to the ground, yanking Mitaka down beside her. Shakily he picked up the items and tossed them into the basket, his nervous swallowing auditable.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit…” he muttered under his breath. “Does…does Ben—"

With ferocity she grabbed the sleeve of sweater, pulling him up close. “You do not breathe a word of any of this to anyone. _Especially Ben_.”

“But he—”

“I’ll pay for your items,” she interjected hastily, tossing his bag of _Doritos_ and _Orbit_ gum into her basket. She then grabbed the box of condoms, sending him a raised eyebrow. “ _Seriously_?”

“I don’t think you have room to talk.”

Rey glowered at him, standing back up with a heavier basket and an unexpected companion. Head held high, she led him to the register, dropping her basket on the counter with a thud.

A less than thrilled cashier scanned through the items, only pausing when she got to the condoms. “Aren’t you guys a little late for these?”

Mitaka choked on air. “Me _with_ her? God, no.”

Her head snapped to him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I will have you know I am a wonderful catch and _married_.”

Her friend was at a loss for words, choosing to shrug pathetically. “What does anything I say mean, _really_?”

Raising an eyebrow at his lame attempt of an excuse, Rey turned back to the cashier. “He’s my nephew, so if I were you, I’d think again before making a comment like that.”

“Those hormones sure are kicking, _Aunt_ Rey.”

“Mitaka,” she gritted out warningly.

“Shutting up.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“And you are positive no one is home?”

Rey entered his apartment in flourish, already making herself at home in Mitaka’s bathroom. All the boxes were laid out on the counter, each open and ready for her to pee on when the time came.

Standing in the open door, Mitaka nodded, holding out her lemonade. Leaning over, Rey took another sip, the large iced drink almost gone.

“Absolutely positive—like a pregnancy test,” Mitaka joked—a joke Rey did not find funny in the slightest. “Sorry,” he muttered a second later, taking a step back. “I guess I’ll let you do your thing. Let me know if you need anything more to drink. I got plenty of water.”

Rey nodded, hands tight on the doorknob. “Alright. I’ll call you when I need more to drink.”

“And Rey,” he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Whatever happens…just know you have all of us. Not just Ben, but me and Kaydel too. We’re your family.”

Her eyes decided to get teary for the fifth time that day—damn her emotions. She was going to need to invest in some handkerchiefs at this point, the amount of waste her tears were causing edging on extraordinary.

Taking a shaky breath, Rey attempted to calm herself down. “Thank you, Mitaka. I mean it, _thank you_.”

With that said, she shut the door and turned back to the tests laid out before her.

“It’s just peeing on a stick.”

Peeing on a stick.

She could do that.

Lord knows she had peed on other things with a less than sober mind.

But that was a different Rey, from a different time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Almost a half hour later, Rey opened the bathroom door.

“So?” Mitaka asked, sitting up from his spot on the floor. “What happened?”

She looked down at him, feeling her voice lodged in her throat. “Do…do you have a ziplock baggy I can put them in? I don’t think it is good to travel with the tests exposed. Even with a cap on.”

He frowned a little, confused, but nodded. “Sure, I can get you one. Just give me a sec.”

Rey took a shaky breath as Mitaka took off, waiting until he was completely out of sight.

A quiet sob quivered out of her.

Nine positive and one negative.

And the one negative because she ruined her first try by accidentally dropping the stick in the toilet from shaking.

Her hand couldn’t stop shaking the entire time.

But she did it.

It was done.

Mitaka came rushing back, a plastic bag in his hand.

“Here you—”

Rey tossed her arms around Mitaka, crushing him into a hug. Anything else he was going to say didn’t matter, her friend hugging her back almost immediately. Unshed tears spilled from her eyes, a jagged succession of breaths hiccupping through her.

“I’m pumpernickel-ed,” she murmured into his shoulder. “I’m so fucking pumpernickel-ed.”

The phrase repeated over and over and over in her head.

_Pumpernickel. Pumpernickel. Pumpernickel. Pumpernickel. Pumpernickel. Pumpernickel. Pumpernickel. Pumpernickel. Pumpernickel._

_She was fucking pumpernickel-ed. She was so pumpernickel-ed._

“I…I don’t know what that means, but okay.” Mitaka carefully patted her shoulder. “For what it’s worth…I think you’d be a great mom. At least…that’s you’ve been kind of one to me.”

Through her tears, she felt her lips pull into a wavering smile.

Yeah…in a weird way Mitaka sort of was her kid. Her and Ben’s kid. A bit too young to be fully considered their friend, but almost like family. Hell, Ben taught Mitaka how to drive and how to properly shave. And Rey was always the first person he ran to when in trouble or needed some womanly advice. Not to mention his aunt was not always the most attentive nor gentle guardian…

Maybe Mitaka had a point.

Maybe she wouldn’t be a half bad mom.

But right then and there, she didn’t feel it. Instead, she continued to cry on his shoulder, mentally telling herself everything would be fine once she told Ben.

_Everything would be fine._

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Where have you been?” Ben called out from their bedroom. “I thought you would have been home by now.”

Shutting the door behind her, Rey sighed tiredly. Lazily, she let go of Kylo’s leash, the dog happy to run off to his master after spending half a day with Finn hiding in the bookshop.

Glancing at her watch, she groaned pathetically; it was barely four in the afternoon and she still had to get ready for the wedding.

Slumping through the house, Rey made her way to the bedroom—a bedroom still missing blinds because she never picked some up due to the day’s current circumstances—and spotted Ben by the closet, examining two ties.

A dark red and a bright blue.

“Which one?”

“Neither—the theme is _nature_ , remember?” Rey reminded him as she dropped her purse down beside the bed. “Wear your navy tie to match me.”

With all her weight, she flopped on to the bed, ready for a nap.

A nap that would never come because she actually had plans for once in her life.

She wondered if it was too early to start pulling the pregnancy card for events—

_“Oh, I can’t I’m ya know, pregnant. Got to take care of me and the baby.”_

That was a thing, right? Or was it just wishful thinking?

Opposite her, the bed dipped. Warm hands brushed away her loose hair. Her recent bob haircut made her brown hair wave around without a care, but Ben was always there to put every strand back into place.

He was obnoxiously thoughtful like that.

“Hey, what’s got you in a bust?”

Cracking open an eye, Rey found concerned honey-brown eyes staring back.

Briefly she wondered if the baby would have his eyes or hers. Because if the kid had his…well shit.

Just the mere thought sent her heart _soaring_.

Another round of throat croaking weeps roared through her, Rey curling into their unmade bed. She hugged a pillow to her face, letting herself just cry. Because damn it she wanted hate the baby but the more she thought about the baby having Ben’s eyes—Ben’s ridiculously transparent and soulful honey-brown eyes—Rey realized she wanted nothing more and it made zero sense to her.

“Rey—sweetheart, I have no idea what is going on?” Ben said from somewhere to her left. “Did that _McDonald’s_ on Florence Street McFlurry machine break again? Or did they run out of mini-corn dogs at the little hot dog shop on the corner or was it the coffee shop? Did they spell your name absurdly wrong again? Because if it is that, don’t cry over it. Last time they spelled my name with a ‘ _g’_ —I don’t even know how that is phonetically possible.”

Lifting her head up, Rey swallowed some air, attempting to catch her breath. “Pumpernickel, Ben. It’s pumpernickel!”

Even through blurry vision she could see his eyebrows deeply furrow.

“What?”

“Pumpernickel!”

“You want pumpernickel bread?” he asked, head cocked to the side. “I…didn’t know you even liked pumpernickel.”

“I don’t,” Rey wheezed, sitting up. Scrubbing her face, she smeared the little make-up she had on. “But I am and—shit, is that the time?”

Her eyes landed on the digital clock set up on the floor across the room. Ben must have set it up while she’d been gone, a few of their belongings actually having some temporary homes for the time being.

A bright _4:17PM_ shined back at her in red.

The wedding started at six and she still wasn’t dressed. What a flipping _awful_ maid of honor she was turning out to be.

Catching her line of sight, Ben sighed. “Yeah, that’s why I am trying to get you up and—”

Rey darted out of the room and into the bathroom. “I’m taking a quick shower, get my dress please!”

And just like that, _pumpernickel_ was forgotten about, more pressing matters at hand.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Her head nearly collided with the top of the car, her seatbelt protecting her from the violent lurch.

They were late. _Really late_.

About ten minutes late.

But in wedding time that was almost a century late.

And neither Ben or Rey could do anything put combat the traffic and hope the odds were in their favor.

In the driver’s seat, her husband winced, hands firmly placed on the wheel as he navigated through the streets to city hall.

“Are you shitting me?” Rey muttered, holding on to the passenger seat for dear life. While she wouldn’t normally be curling into a tight ball in a formal dress, she knew when to cut her chances concerning the Falcon.

This was not one of those times.

The Falcon was sputtering.

 _Again_.

“She’s just testy these days,” Ben muttered, grumbling as he roughly shifted gears. “Nothing to worry about.”

“She needs a check-up,” Rey muttered, pressing a hand out to the dashboard as they lurched forward again. “Like yesterday.”

“Well, _sorry_ ,” Ben gritted out, making a sharp right turn. “Yesterday was kind of a busy day. Work, Literature Club, and I had to fulfill some last minute best man duties.”

“Like rent out the party room so I could decorate it last night?”

Ben winced, pulling into the parking lot. “Yeah, something like that.”

Putting the car into park, he turned off the car and rushed to her side of the car. Ben opened the passenger door for her, Rey stepping out on wobbly feet. With one hand she steadied herself on Ben’s shoulder, while the other quickly fluffed her fit and flare navy blue dress out, making it appear less rumbled than it been moment’s ago.

“Oh here, don’t forget your purse.”

Her purse with _very much positive_ pregnancy tests.

Well, shit.

Before she could protest, Ben was already reaching back in the car.

So in a valent effort, Rey nudged him away and grasped her purse.

However, Ben didn’t immediately let go.

In the tension and twist of both their grips, the purse overturned, the contents spilling out on to the asphalt.

A series of thuds echoed—her phone, lipstick, and charger the loudest.

And then there it was. Sitting on top of the massive pile like a neon sign.

Her little ziplock baggy of pregnancy tests.

Ben’s eyes widened as the weight of the what my possibly be happening crashed upon him.

“Rey—”

Without looking at him—too afraid to look at him—she dropped down to the ground and tossed her belongings back into her purse. “Can we not right now,” she mumbled, willing herself to not lash or cry, or do both simultaneously. “We have a wedding to get to and we are late and this can absolutely mean nothing and—”

A soft pair of warm lips pressed against her temple. Firm and reassuring hands rested over hers, calming the tempest brewing within her.

For once, since that afternoon, her hands stopped shaking.

“Rey, sweetheart.” His gentle words possessed her attention, her hazel gaze flickering up to his honey-brown. “It will be okay.”

A shaky exhale eased out of her, eyes locked on his. Earnest and kindness oozed from him, one of his hands releasing her to grab the few lingering items remaining on the ground. Once their mess was cleaned up, Ben helped her get to her feet, hand interlocked with hers.

“Hey,” he murmured in her hair before making a step towards the building, “whatever it is—I love you and I love…” He looked down at her, forcing a shaky smile of his own. He couldn’t get the word out, and she didn’t blame him. “… _Okay_?”

Mutely, she nodded.

“I know.”

Squeezing her hand, Ben led the way into city hall. Upon entering, the two hurried to the waiting area where they immediately found the impatient bride and groom.

“I told you two six!” Kaydel hissed, practically wringing her bouquet to shreds. “And what time is it?”

“Six-fifteen,” Mitaka supplied, standing up from his chair. His nerdy sweatshirt and cargo pants from earlier were gone and replaced with a nice, tailored tux. “Kay—the wedding doesn’t officially start until six-thirty. They aren’t too late and I’m sure they have a good reason.”

She turned to her groom, eye alit with a challenge. “Oh, really? The couple who is perpetually late to everything has—even our wedding, and even their own wedding—has a good reason?”

Rey and Ben glanced at each other, a little lost for words. Kaydel, while usually mild manner, had become overly frantic about her rather simple wedding.

“I dropped my purse,” Rey said honestly despite it not being the most accurate reason. “And everything spilled so…” Wincing, she shrugged. “But we are here and you still haven’t been called in yet!”

“And we have the rings,” Ben was quick to supply, patting his inner breast pocket. “So the wedding can happen. Not the end of the world, Kay. We promise.”

Her eyes narrowed on the two, not believing their somewhat cool demeanors for half a second.

“Mitaka and Ko Connix!” A voice called out from the court room door. “Mitaka and Ko Connix!”

“That’s us,” Mitaka breathed, ready to take Kaydel’s arm.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ben took Kaydel’s other arm, shooing Mitaka away. “We called the other day and we slightly changed the ceremony, to make it a little more personal.”

“More personal?” Kaydel’s brows furrowed. “You don’t have to do anything else.”

With being engaged for over a year, the couple did not have the best game plan nor timeline for their nuptials. Neither had the time nor energy to plan a wedding, even a simple one such as theirs; Mitaka was finishing university and Kaydel was swamped with extra shifts at the urgent care clinic. With little time for planning, Ben and Rey took the reins for their friend’s wedding, letting the couple have a some room to breathe before their special day.

“Kay, we know how much you wanted your father to walk you down the aisle despite…well despite everything,” Ben firmly held her arm, smiling down at her comfortingly. “And I know I am not your father or anything close to that, but I do consider you family. May I walk you down the aisle?”

Face flushing and eyes shining, Kaydel nodded hurriedly, her flower crown nearly tumbling off her head. “Yes, yes. I’d love that, Ben.”

Mitaka whipped to Rey with a boisterous, boyish grin. “Does this mean you get to walk me down the aisle first?”

Rolling her eyes, she nodded. “Sure, wonder-boy. Let’s go before they cancel your slot.”

Looping his arm through hers, the two marched ahead of Ben and Kaydel and into the courtroom. Soft music played from a boombox, the mix labeled ‘Kay-Taka Wedding Ceremony Jams;’ a CD the groom put together for the big day. He made everyone a copy, even though Rey and Ben told him they only needed one, the young man _insisted_.

And it was hard to say no to the guy when he _insisted_ , especially with his boyish puppy dog face.

As they got closer, a nervous giddiness radiated off of Mitaka. Rey could feel every ounce of restraint her friend exhibited at the moment, she holding him back from nearly running off to the other side of the room.

“Slow your roll,” Rey whispered, patting his arm. “You have time.”

“Right…right,” Mitaka mumbled, “I just can’t believe it is happening. I mean I’ve loved her forever and now…” He sighed happily.

Never did anyone think the dorky, sheltered kid in their group therapy class would somehow marry the flouncy free spirit. Never in a million year. Especially who how he would moon over her, practically falling over his two feet to just be in her mere presence.

Yet here they were.

Reaching the officiant, Rey let go of his arm. With a small smile in his direction, she stepped aside to stand as witness.

Soon enough Kaydel entered, hanging on to Ben’s arm for dear life, however her joyful expression was incomparable. Her bohemian white dress trailed after her, flowing in gentle waves with every step. A true beauty in the dull, wood furnished courtroom.

Rey’s eyes shifted from Kaydel to Ben, he speaking quietly in Kaydel’s ear as they came closer. The bride nodded at him, tears in her eyes in a silent ‘thank you.’

She didn’t know what he said because she already knew—

 

 

_“I’m going to tell her she always has a home with us,” Ben said as he and Rey were dozing off to sleep. “She deserves to know no matter what happens between her and Mitaka, we are still her family, just like we are his. That doesn’t change.”_

_“That’s incredibly thoughtful.”_

_“It’s the truth. She’s like the little sister I never had,” he muttered. “She was the first person to talk to me in group therapy. Sat next to me, told me I look like a sad emo giant and then handed me a healing stone.” He snorted, turning on his side to face her. “And I have never been able to get rid of her since.”_

_Rey giggled sleepily into her pillow. “That sounds like Kaydel.” Snuggling closer to him, she rest her chin on his shoulder, looking down at him. “You should tell her. I think she’d appreciate it.”_

_Ben hummed in agreement, his eyes already starting to close from exhaustion. “I think I will. Won’t chicken out.”_

_“You better not. And I’ll know. Trust me.”_

_“I always do.”_

 

“You’re already crying,” Ben muttered teasingly as he came to stand beside her. “I could see you crying from the other side of the room.”

“Oh hush,” she mumbled, wiping her eyes carefully with the tips of her fingers. “Like you aren’t going to cry.”

“I already cried earlier today. I’m good.”

She rolled her eyes—‘cried earlier today’ her ass. Glancing up she noticed he was far more misty eyed than he let on, giving a subtle sniffle. His eyes shined red from the strain, a quiet clear of his throat heard by just her.

Of course he was getting emotional; it was _Kaydel and Mitaka_.

“You are such a softie. But I like it.”

His lips quirked to the side. A gentle brush of fingers danced around the back of her hand, Ben’s hand clasping hers a second later.

He was right—they were going to be okay.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Whoo!” Mitaka cried out as another ball made it into the ‘100’ point slot. “ _Skeeball King still reigns!_ ”

With childish glee, he ripped off the printed tickets, and went running after Kaydel on the other side of the arcade. She nearly screeched as loud as he did when he produced the tickets from behind his back.

“My goodness…” Rey mumbled, straw between her lips. “They are like two rambunctious toddlers loose in a candy store.”

Ben’s eyebrows jumped in agreement, though said nothing on the matter. He was more concerned with eating his chicken wings than on Kaydel and Mitaka.

While the Cantina wasn’t necessarily anyone’s top pick of a wedding reception venue, it was certainly something the bride and groom would pick. Not to mention the owner gave them a discount because Mitaka was his _favorite_ and most _loyal_ customer.

Ben tried not to be offended by that, considering he’d been going to little arcade and dive for the majority of his life, far longer than Mitaka.

“I think,” Ben punctuated his words by dipping his fries in ranch, “it is a bit weird the theme is ‘nature’ and we are in a dark arcade with little to now windows.”

“That’s what I was saying!” Rey cried out, picking at Ben’s basket of fries. She stuffed a near handful in her mouth. Chewing noisily, she spoke with her mouth full. “I mean don’t get me wrong, love it here.”

“Absolutely.”

“But come on—” she picked up the decorative succulent sitting on the table “—I have no idea how the hell this signifies as nature.”

“It is a plant,” her husband pointed out. “Very low on the scheme of ‘plant-ness,’ but a plant nonetheless.”

“But when you think nature, you think woodland and forest-y right?”

His head tilted side to side, considering the terms. “Well, yeah. I guess.”

“Not succulents,” she squinted at the mini one in her hand, “I’m not even sure it is a real one. Might be fake.”

A faint smirk formed on his lips. “Didn’t you put these out?”

“On three hours of sleep? Yes. Wasn’t really paying attention to their authenticity.”

“Doing, not thinking. That’s a first,” Ben said, dipping more fries into his ranch. He continued to eat, his eyes darting between her and the rest of the room.

He had not yet mentioned the purse incident.

Both a relief and anxiety.

Because honestly, Rey did not want to talk about it. She didn’t want to talk about it in fear of an anxiety attack. While she hadn’t had one in a few months, the thought of the possibility of an anxiety attack itself was pushing her towards the edge.

However she hated not knowing what Ben was thinking—especially about matter with this amount of gravity.

Poking at her onion rings, she considered her options.

She and Ben could continue to ignore the elephant in the room until they got home. Which could then lead to more crying (on both their parts) and _maybe_ they’d be able to go to sleep peacefully.

Or she and Ben could address the issue now and see where the night took them.

She was really hoping it led to sweet reassuring words, more onion rings, and maybe some making out in the backseat of the car because they sometimes liked to pretend they were _wild_ like that in semi-public.

(They really weren’t. Their sex-capades were mostly left that in the safe confines of the house.)

“I’m pumpernickel-ed.”

Ben blinked at her, mid-bite.

He set his chicken wing down. “I have no idea what that means.”

Rey groaned, dropping her face in her hands. “‘Pumpernickel’ means…” she dropped her voice low, above a whisper, “…pregnant. I’m pregnant, Ben.”

His lips twisted into a quirked purse, eyes speaking apologetically. “I know.”

“Then why aren’t you annoyed or upset?” she asked, perturbed by his subdued demeanor. “I might possibly have a baby—a living breathing squishy thing—that doesn’t talk, but barfs and farts and is disgusting, invading our lives.” She wheezes out a held breath. “This is life changing and you just say ‘ _I know’_?”

Ben’s eyebrows shot up, mouth clamped shut. His gaze searched her face as though she were a frail animal, too cautious to say anything or make a move in fear she shut herself away. A delicate flower able to crumple with the slightest ill-intention.

She hated it when he looked at her like that—no, she felt _helpless_ when he looked at her like that. Because the look was mingle of love and pity and loss, as though Ben was attempting to come to grips with every inch of her rather than dive head first into the issue.

“ _We_ might possibly have a baby that is overall disgusting, Rey. Not just you.”

Well, she certainly didn’t expect a blunt response.

Ben pushed his food away and slouched until he was at her eye level. Honey-brown met her head on, not soft and inviting but stern and ready for a fight—only she didn’t know if it was a good or bad.

“I’m not upset because…” a heavy breath shook out him, as though afraid to let go, “because maybe…I kind of want this.”

His words settled over them.

Ben…wanted this.

Her husband…who told his mother with great firmness and ferocity he _never_ wanted to have children…was implying he did in fact _want_ children.

Rey stuffed a handful of fries in her mouth.

“Sweetheart…”

She sipped her chocolate milkshake before grabbing a boneless chicken wing and taking a vicious bite.

“Rey, _please_ …” Ben scrubbed his eyes, his glasses getting stuck awkwardly on his forehead. “It’s not like I have always wanted kids, but I am not… _opposed_ to it.”

“ _Oppoffed_?” she said through a full mouth. Chewing the last remains, she swallowed. “Then why have you always said—”

“I haven’t—”

“You have,” she stressed, “or you _did_. I don’t know. You told your mother you didn’t want kids so I kind of wrote it off as a possibility. And it didn’t matter because I didn’t even want kids either! Plus we have always said just the _two of us_ , against the world.”

Ben sighed, leaning back in his chair. “And it will always be us against the world but Rey…I didn’t want to have kids because of my parents. I didn’t want to fuck up like them.”

“But you wouldn’t fuck up,” she argued, exasperated. “You’d be phenomenal. Caring, funny, attentive, brilliant—you’d be the perfect soft dad women would swoon over.”

He recoiled, stunned by her confession. His eyes softened, the fight melting into vulnerable warmth. “What?”

“I have been thinking about it all day,” she whimpered pathetically, “how you’d be great at this whole parent thing…and I’d suck ass at it.”

Ben snorted at the phrase, but remained solemn. “You wouldn’t suck ass.”

While she’d normally have a cheeky response, Rey felt herself slink further into her seat. “Yeah, I would. I know nothing about babies.”

“Neither do I.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

“There are handbooks.”

Rey raised an eyebrow. “Do you really expect me to read a handbook on how to take care of a baby?”

Ben smirked. “Yes. Because that is the most you thing to do. Make it your knew obsession. Your new hobby.”

“I have a hobby,” she remined him. “I’m actually almost done with that blanket.”

Adjusting his glasses back on the bridge of his nose, her husband’s eyes met her in earnest. “Rey, the only reason I am not opposed to children is because of you.”

“Me?” she croaked.

“Yeah,” he hushed, leaning closer, “because I sometimes think about a kid with your eyes or your hair. How their smile would be as bright as yours. If they’d have your giggle or my awful snort.”

“I love your snort,” she muttered, nudging her foot with his. “It makes my day.”

Ben’s hands grasped hers, soothing circles rubbed into her knuckles. His thumb lingered on her wedding ring, twisting it to the left then right, yet still firmly on her finger. “And when I think about those things…I am less afraid. Because at least that kid would be half you. And you might be the best person I know--compassionate, understanding, determined. You are everything I believe a good mother would be, and more.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, watching Ben watching her.

“I think having children is selfish,” she declared.

Ben didn’t visibly react, his lips barely twitching. “Of course it is. People who actively want children have to fulfill some need or desire in them. Thinking of their legacy, bloodlines, or for their own fucked up joy.”

“If you think it is selfish, why do you want children?”

He blinked at her, as though she held the truth of his heart her hands. “For the obvious reason—I’m selfish.”

“Well,” Rey intertwined their fingers, feeling lighter than she did moments ago, “it just so turns out I’m a _bit_ selfish too. And maybe we can be selfish about this baby together.”

Honey-brown met her hazel. Light, joy, relief, and _hope_ —

Rey knew she was not alone; she had Ben. She had her family.

And that was more than enough.

 

 

 

 

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, aren't I proud of these characters. Kaydel and Mitaka married, Rey now a published author, putting herself out there, and Ben moving past his resentment towards his family and his own fears. AND REY AND BEN ARE MARRIED AND EXPECTING. WOW.
> 
> Now, some of you might be like, "hey, I thought they weren't going to have kids at all?"
> 
> Yeah that was the plan. And then I really thought about it (that's kind of the reason these last three chapters took forever to post), and I realized I had to go for this storyline in the epilogue. Because I felt with Rey and Ben it brings closure to a few of their insecurities as well as fulfilling some of their desires. And I am not going to get to into it because I think all of you are smart enough cookies to see the decision to make this narrative choice.
> 
> Anyways...
> 
> THAT'S IT FOLKS.
> 
> I don't have any plans to continue this universe. I know I heard a few dozen hearts break with that sentence, but it is true.
> 
> now...THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO READ THIS STORY. I started writing 'finding a hobby' when I hit a low in my depression and life. It was where I poured a bit of myself and bit of my fears and anxieties and helped these characters find a light at the end of the tunnel. And sometimes when we are low we need to be reminded we are not alone ( *cue TLJ hut scene*) that there are people who care, who want you to thrive and want you to see how wonderful and beautiful you are inside and out. You are more than your disorder, addiction, and vice. You are more and loved. Unbelievably loved.
> 
> So I dedicate this fic to all of you who are there or have been in the pit, at your low, have felt maybe how some of these characters felt and who are climbing up and out everyday. Those who have faced anxiety, depression, addition. You are IN my heart, you ARE my heart. You are seen and loved.
> 
> I hope this fic meant something to all of you as it did for me :) thank you

**Author's Note:**

> TBH, I haven't had this much fun writing a fic since Penmanship. Not that I don't love my other work but...I think there is something special about getting better and learning and growing. Initally this was a oneshot, but I decided to break it up into a couple of chapters.\
> 
> Also, for the record, I do not hate therapy despite the conversations against it that may occur!
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing fics with readers. 
> 
> Follow me on twitter @intpslytherin97


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